Harry jerked awake with a startled gasp. Another night, another nightmare. Glancing at the clock, he groaned upon realizing it was only 5 o’clock in the morning and he was already wide-awake. Knowing he would never get another wink of sleep, he slowly climbed out of bed, his tired body protesting at the movements. Grabbing his night robe off the chair where he’d left it the night before, Harry slipped into it and headed to the bathroom to take care of his needs. After washing his hands, he quietly went downstairs and into the kitchen.

He was about to push the door open when he heard voices from within. Harry smiled knowing who it was. The kitchen smelled wonderful; it was obvious Deliverance and Cella had been up for a while preparing breakfast. He couldn’t understand why they would be up this early, but he wasn’t about to complain.

“Need any help?” he asked quietly from the doorway, the two busy cooks having not heard him.

“Harry!” exclaimed Del, wiping her hands on a white apron tied firmly around her waist. “What are you doing up so early?” Her hands had moved from the apron to her hips, with a concerned look on her face.

“No reason, but woke up early, couldn’t sleep.”

“Are you all right?” she asked, placing a pan in the oven and returning her gaze to the boy.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just didn’t feel like laying in bed any longer,” he said, knowing he looked as tired as he felt.

“Well, since you’re up, why don’t you come help me with these?” she asked, indicating the dough laid out in front of her on the counter. “I’m going to make homemade biscuits,” she told the boy, sending him to the sink to wash his hands. She could tell something was a little off about her favorite child this morning and knew he needed a distraction.

After washing his hands, Harry immediately took up a place beside his grandmother and began kneading the dough. Having made these a few times for the Dursley’s he felt confident he wouldn’t mess this up, considering his mind kept wandering back to the nightmare which had awakened him in the first place.

He gently patted down the dough and folded it over, repeating this motion several times, probably a few times too many as he let his thoughts run rampant.

“Harry?”

He glanced up at Deliverance and then down at the dough.

“Sorry,” he said quietly, taking the dough he had nearly squashed to death and with a simple spell it was back to its original condition. Rolling out the dough, he took his wand and cut it into a dozen circles before placing them on the cooking sheet Deliverance provided him with. “Have you always cooked like this?” he asked.

She looked at him oddly. “Whatever do you mean, Harry?” she asked, confused. “Oh, you mean do I always do it by hand and not by magic?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, it’s the only way I ever learned. Back in my day, sweetie, if you were caught using magic by the Muggles, you were immediately tried and hanged in front of the entire town. When my family and I escaped to Cross Island, we made a pact never to use magic again for fear of being caught. At the time, it was our only option. So yes, I’ve been cooking all on my own since I was a young girl. I actually find it to be very relaxing.”

Harry placed the pan in the oven after taking the previous one out. “I think so too.”

Deliverance smiled at the boy and ushered him to a chair. “Why don’t you have a seat and eat some we’ve already made?” she asked. Cella was suddenly there beside him, a plate, glass, and utensils were before him, as she served him his breakfast.

Not feeling particularly hungry, Harry picked up one of the biscuits and lathered it with strawberry jam before taking a small bite. Juice appeared in his glass and he gratefully took a sip, not realizing how thirsty he was until that moment. Just as he was placing his glass back down on the table, he felt someone wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him backwards. Instinctively, Harry twisted out of the arms holding him and stumbled to his feet, feeling his heart beat erratically in his chest as his panic tried to take over.

“Harry?” asked Severus, looking startled.

Harry took in a deep breath, berating himself for overreacting once again! “Sorry, Dad, I-I just,” he had to take in another breath to calm himself. “You just took me by surprise, is all. Sorry?” he said, more as a question.

Severus continued to watch his son worriedly. “Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked, making a move to place his hand on Harry’s shoulder, but Harry easily side stepped his advancing hand and walked back to his chair, internally wondering just why he kept shying away from everyone’s touch.

“I’m fine, sir, really. I just wasn’t expecting you to be up as early as me. And as early as Deliverance either, for that matter, and well, Cella’s always up this early,” he continued on, but finally forced his mouth to shut when he realized he was babbling. His father was looking a bit more than concerned now.

“Did you get enough sleep last night?” asked Severus, glancing at Deliverance out of the corner of his eye. She was looking just as worried as he was.

“Oh yeah, plenty.”

Severus sighed, knowing a lie when he heard one. “Harry,” he stated, sounding a bit harsher than he’d intended. Harry jumped and he instantly softened his voice. “Maybe you should try and go back to bed?” he asked, trying not to make it sound like an order, even though he was seriously considering making him.

“I can’t now. I’d never fall back asleep!. And besides, it’s nearly six thirty, I’d just be up again a few minutes later,” he was quick to rationalize with his father, not wanting the man to force him into going back to bed. He did not want those nightmares. When would they end? And why did he keep having them? They always focused on his Uncle, and were normally memories of his childhood, but this stuff hadn’t ever happened.

“Very well, you’ve proved your point. You don’t have to go back to bed, but I would like for you to try and get to sleep early tonight, though.”

Harry nodded gratefully. “Okay, dad.”

“What did you have planned for today?” he asked, sitting down in the chair beside his son, his eyes taking in the bruise like circles under the boy’s eyes with a sigh.

“I don’t know. I keep telling myself I need to go and visit the Weasley’s, but I just haven't had the chance yet. What do you think? Would it be okay if I went over there today?”

Severus considered his son for what seemed like an eternity before he finally nodded his head. “I suppose that would be all right. However, if you have another of your dizzy spells, I want you to come home immediately. Understood?” he asked, keeping a stern eye on the boy.

Harry didn’t think it was as necessary to come home as all that. It wasn’t like he was passing out or anything, but he could see why his father would make that condition. “I agree to those terms,” he said.

Severus smirked. “Very good. What about Draco, do you know what he has planned for today?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. He hadn’t even considered what Malfoy might be doing. That was a little bit inconsiderate of him, wasn’t it? Leaving the other boy here all by himself with no one to keep him company, besides his father and grandmother?

“I don’ t know. But, maybe I shouldn’t go,” he added sheepishly. “I hadn’t considered Draco, and I doubt he’d want to come with me.”

Snape stood from his chair and began pacing the floor. “Deliverance was wanting to go back to Cross Island, assess the damage and see what could be rebuilt. I don’t want her going on her own and will accompany her. That leaves you and Draco to your own devices, an idea I’m not too pleased with. Not that I don’t trust you on your own,” he added quickly at Harry’s affronted gaze. “But, I might be gone longer than just a few hours. And, loathe as I am to admit it, there are still some questionable Death Eaters on the loose and I’d rather you not be on your own for too long.”

Harry nodded, seeing the advantage of being in the presence of more than just Draco Malfoy in case the Manor was…attacked. The thought brought shudders running through his small frame. He had known some Death Eaters hadn’t been caught when he had destroyed Voldemort, he just chose not to think on it. They couldn’t bother him here, but then he was brought back to reality by the fact that they actually could. Snape Manor wasn’t as heavily warded as Hogwarts, or even the Dursleys for that matter, but Snape had his own type of wards surrounding the grounds, some a bit more creative than the ones protecting Hogwarts. But they wouldn’t stop someone absolutely determined to get in, would they? If they wanted in, they’d find a way.

“I don’t know if it will work, but I can try and convince Draco to come with me to the Weasley’s?” he asked, wanting Severus’ opinion on the idea. It was common knowledge that Draco didn’t think too highly of the Weasley’s and the Weasley’s didn’t think too highly of the Malfoy’s. Getting him to step foot inside the Burrow would be a challenge, but one he felt he could succeed in. Maybe.

Severus raised a brow as if saying, ‘good luck with that.’ Harry couldn’t help but agree with the man. He waited for Severus’ decision on the matter and the man nodded his head. “If you can convince him, that would be one less matter for me to worry about. If not, we’ll deal with it as it comes.”

“Okay, I’ll go talk to him now. If I can’t convince him, I’ll just stun him and drag him along any way,” he replied with a shrug, seriously contemplating doing just that.

“I’m not entirely sure Draco would appreciate that very much, Harry,” said Severus, smirking. He could just imagine the blonde Slytherins’ look of indignation.

“Yeah, I know that. I’m not being serious, at least not yet…” he grinned at the look on his father’s face. “I’m kidding, I wouldn’t do that to him. He’d kill me.”

“Ah, I doubt he’d go that far,” he said, knowing the said Slytherin was truly beginning to like Harry, so much to the point where he was being protective of him, especially after the incident in the Library. Severus was quite pleased to see this change in his godson.

Harry shrugged. “Yeah, I know that,” he glanced at his watch, not noticing his father’s drifting thoughts. “I’d better get to convincing Draco then, or we’ll miss lunch with the Weasley’s.”

“I thought that Molly and Arthur didn’t know you were arriving today?” he asked.

“Oh they don’t, but I still don’t want to miss her cooking,” he explained.

“Harry…” he was about to rebuke the boy on just inviting himself over to the Weasley’s home, but thought better of it. He knew Molly Weasley, that woman loved Harry almost as if he was her own son, and would never deny the boy anything. He didn’t want Harry and Draco to just barge in and eat them out of house and home, either. But, again, Molly Weasley would have enough food on the table to feed a small army, and Harry and his godson would barely make a dent in it. Just the same, though, “Harry, perhaps you should firecall first, make sure the Weasley’s can take you in?”

Harry agreed immediately. “Oh, I was going to! I wouldn’t just stop by without asking first, that would be rude and inconsiderate!” he said, not wanting to be an inconvenience on the Weasley’s at all. He wouldn’t want to force his presence on anyone, especially if they didn’t want him there.

Severus sighed, he should have known better than to think Harry wouldn’t take that into account all on his own. He could see the wheels turning, already, in the teen’s head and nearly regretted saying anything at all.

“I’d better go firecall now, they might have other plans, besides.”

Harry quickly rushed from the kitchen after waving a quick goodbye to Deliverance who had remained unusually quiet over by the stove.

…………………………

“You’re supposed to knock, you realize?” drawled Draco with an air of annoyance in his voice.

Harry faltered at the already opened door, as he hadn’t even thought of knocking with the door standing wide open before him. “Oh…” he mumbled quietly, feeling that Malfoy’s words were an indication that he wanted to be left alone and not bothered by the likes of him, Harry took a step backwards and turned to go back out. “Sorry I bothered you,” he said quickly and was halfway down the hallway before Malfoy’s voice echoed down to him.

”Harry, wait!”

Coming to an abrupt halt, Harry turned around and looked at Draco questioningly. “Yeah?”

“I didn’t mean you couldn’t come in!” he said, exasperation showing in his eyes. “I just prefer it for people to knock before they enter, common courtesy and all that rot,” he mumbled, looking upset with himself. “You’re always welcome.” He watched Harry stand quietly in the middle of the hallway anxiously.

“Are you sure?” asked Harry, still feeling unsure of himself.

“Of course I am. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise!” said Draco, wondering on Harry’s obvious lack of self-esteem. He didn’t have to wonder long, of course, he knew the cause of it, his bloody relatives.

“I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy or anything,” Harry continued before Malfoy raised his hands, causing Harry to stop speaking. “What?”

“Stop, Harry, you did not invade my privacy!” he waited for Harry to continue in his vein of self-doubt, but he remained silent. “Well, what did you come up here for in the first place?” he asked, holding a hand invitingly towards his door, and only going inside when Harry had started towards him.

Harry slowly trailed after his friend, wondering whether or not he should feel completely stupid for thinking Draco didn’t want him around. It was incredibly stupid, he realized as he looked back on it. Draco was always scathing or sarcastic, not so much now, but perhaps it was just a habit he fell back on whenever he was taken by surprise, as he clearly did earlier. Feeling slightly better about the situation, Harry was more at ease when he entered the blonde’s room and took the seat Draco was indicating with his pointed finger.

“Well?” asked Draco, once Harry had sat down.

He actually had to think for a minute to recall what his purpose was for seeing Malfoy in the first place. “Oh, yeah, I came to ask if you would go to the Weasley’s with me…” he trailed off, wondering if Draco would even be willing to go after what just happened.

“To the Weasley’s?” asked Draco, looking incredulous. “Why would I want to go over there with you?” he asked, his tone once more turning to ice at the mention of the redhead. He still clearly recalled their argument and the devastating results. He’d never forgive himself, or Ron Weasley, for causing Harry harm.

That wasn’t what Harry was thinking, however. Harry sighed. “They’re not that bad!” he exclaimed, he also felt a little hurt at Malfoy’s last words. “And what’s so bad about going over there with me?” he asked, his hurt unintentionally coming through in his voice.

Draco came very close to slamming his head into his wooden desk. “Harry! There is nothing wrong with going anywhere with you, not even to the Weasley’s! But you know how I feel about them and how they feel about me. You know Weasley’s father has been fighting with my own for as long as either of us can remember. You saw it for yourself.”

Harry nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. “But still, why can’t you just give them a chance? They’re really great people!”

Harry didn’t realize it, but he’d already won the battle, with the hurt that had been shining in his eyes just a few moments before. Draco felt like an arse for causing Harry doubt, not once, but twice in the past twenty minutes. Draco was going to the Weasley’s, begrudgingly perhaps, but he was still going. He was just putting up a believable front until it seemed wise to give in, otherwise Harry would know something was up.

He sighed as they continued to argue for another good ten minutes before Draco finally caved, telling his friend he would go. But seeing Harry smile an actual bright, happy smile was worth it. It was quite rare to get any kind of smile out of Harry lately, and if this was the only way to get one, then so be it.

…………………………………..

Draco stumbled out of the fireplace and into the most unbelievably cluttered home he’d ever stepped foot in. He was surprised then, at the sense of ‘home’ he got when he’d entered. Harry had told him once how great the Burrow was, how at home he felt when he was there. He hadn’t believed it at the time, envisioning an old shack when he’d described it, but now…it was easy to believe. The house may not be built of the finest stones and furnished with the most expensive and impressive furniture, but, and as corny as he felt while just thinking it, Draco could tell it was a house filled with love, affection, pride, and many others he couldn’t quite identify with. Then again, none of those emotions had ever entered his house, not when he was concerned.

Harry stood to the side of Draco, wondering where everyone was. He could hear noises from upstairs, but no one seemed to be around down in the sitting room or the kitchen.

“Hello?” he called out. Suddenly, all the earlier noises from upstairs ceased and the thudding of footsteps down the wooden stairs came loud and clear.

”Harry!” yelled an unidentified voice. “You’re here!”

Standing in the living room, Harry and Draco watched in fascination as all the Weasley children were able to manage coming down the stairs at once…and none of them got trampled in the process.

“Are we early?” he asked, checking his watch.

“No!” they yelled in unison. Draco groaned beside him and Harry quickly nudged him in his side.

“Malfoy,” said Fred suddenly as a greeting when they realized he was there as well.

“I told your Mum he was coming,” Harry quickly explained at the hostile looks between them. “Didn’t she tell you?” he asked, dismayed if they hadn’t known!

“Oh she told us, we were just hoping he’d get lost on the way over,” said Ron hotly.

Draco didn’t look phased at all, but Harry bristled at the tone Ron was using against his friend. “Ron, I came over here because I wanted to visit with all of you. If you’re going to act like this for the rest of the day, forget it. We’ll go straight home.”

Ron’s fire instantly dampened. “Don’t leave, Harry! Bloody hell, we’ll behave, I promise,” he said, clearly reigning in his anger at the Slytherin for Harry’s benefit only.

“That’s right boys, we don’t want a repeat performance of last time, now do we?” asked a very familiar voice from behind them. Harry turned around and was instantly pulled into Molly Weasley’s arms. The movement had been so unexpected and fierce in its intensity that Harry gasped and began to struggle out of her arms. He felt her arms loosen and suddenly he was free and looking up into her eyes. He felt awful at the hurt expression on her face.

“Harry?” she asked.

Immediately, Harry came up with lie. “I was going to sneeze!” he exclaimed, putting on a look of embarrassment, even though it wasn’t far from the truth. He was embarrassed and ashamed that he’d reacted that way with Mrs. Weasley!

“Are you sick?” she asked, her look of hurt instantly transformed to one of concern. She placed her hand against his forehead. “You’re a little warm,” she said offhandedly, before placing them against his cheeks as well.

“It must be from the floo,” he quickly tried to explain. He didn’t want them thinking he was sick.

Molly shook her head. “You’ve never reacted with a fit of sneezing before while using the floo,” she said, ignoring his words and continuing to fuss over him.

“It wasn’t a fit!” he tried saying, but he was instantly shushed and gently guided to the couch to sit down. “Mrs. Weasley, really, I’m not sick at all!” he tried again, but nothing seemed to help. He glowered at the twins and Ron when he saw them stifling their laughter behind their mother.

Ron was glad to see Harry on the receiving end of his Mum’s concern instead of one of them. And the look on Harry’s face was absolutely priceless. They’d be hearing about this tonight when Mum had gone to sleep. Harry wouldn’t be too pleased they hadn’t come to his rescue.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could even see Malfoy smirking at the motherly care Harry was getting. As if sensing someone watching him, Draco turned and met Ron’s watchful gaze. The two instantly looked away again. Finally, Molly seemed to determine there wasn’t anything really wrong with the boy and let him stand up.

Harry took in a deep breath and took a step back towards Draco. Molly looked towards her own children and suddenly remembered her earlier train of thought and started in on Ron and Draco once more with the incident she’d heard about from her youngest son the same night Harry had been injured while the two boys had been quarreling.

“That was an accident!” complained Ron, though by the look he was giving Harry, it was obvious he still felt horrible about it.

“An accident that could have been prevented if you two boys had kept to yourselves, or better yet, gotten along!” she said, her voice loud and stern. Harry nearly shied away obediently at her words, and he wasn’t even the one in trouble.

“Mum!” exclaimed Ron, clearly embarrassed at being chastised in front of his friends and Draco Malfoy of all people.

“Don’t you Mum me, young man! I expect the both of you to behave, is that understood?”

Ron nodded meekly and as Harry looked towards his left, he saw that Draco was nodding in consent as well. Would wonders never cease?

Molly nodded her approval and started back into the kitchen. “Oh, Harry, Draco, you’re both just in time for lunch. I hope you don’t mind turkey sandwiches, fresh fruit, and Pumpkin juice, do you?” she asked. Harry had the feeling she’d switch the menu if he wanted something different, but he wouldn’t have asked for something else no matter what they were having. And a nice light meal sounded fabulous.

“Oh, no, that sounds good, Mrs. Weasley.”

She looked towards Draco, the same question asked in her eyes, and Draco nodded politely. Molly quickly rushed into the kitchen, presumably to set the table and make a few more sandwiches.

“Well, how has your holiday been so far?” asked Harry to break the tension in the room. He noticed Ginny had been staring at Draco since she’d come down the stairs and Malfoy was growing annoyed at the obvious display. It wasn’t exactly a pleasant look he was receiving, either.

“Fine, really. You know about most of it, actually, and nothing new has come up. Oh, except that Bill will be coming home in the next couple of days for a visit!” said Ron happily.

“Really? Is he on vacation, then?” Harry asked, knowing Bill was a very busy man and sometimes it was difficult for him to find time to come home, even for a small visit.

“Yeah, he is. He’ll be staying for a whole month! It’ll be great to have him around the house, considering there are still a few things that Dad hasn’t gotten the chance to fix yet, or rebuild, I guess. And, he’s wanting to put up stronger wards as well. Normally, Dumbledore or even McGonagall could come and help with that sort of thing, but Dad prefers to keep ward raisings in the family, says they’re stronger that way.” Ron continued to ramble on and on about what all still needed fixing with the house. Harry had almost forgotten the Burrow had been in a nearly disastrous fire. The thought of Molly standing in the window moments before the entire house burst into flames caused Harry to shudder violently.

“Mate, are you all right?” asked Ron, his earlier words coming to an abrupt halt.

Harry shook his head, hoping the images Ron had invoked would disappear. He glanced up and saw all of his friends staring at him. “Are you cold?” asked George, though his voice sounded like he didn’t believe that at all.

“Um…no, not cold, just thinking,” he said distractedly, hoping they’d drop the subject.

“What were you thinking about?” Fred asked, taking a step closer to Harry. He stopped just short of putting his arm around his shoulders, as he would normally do, when Harry slightly shied away from his touch. Fred almost didn’t notice it, but Harry’s subtle movement to the left, and subsequently away from him, caught his eye. He frowned.

Harry shrugged. “Your house, actually.”

The Weasley’s and Malfoy looked perplexed. “Huh?”

Harry would have laughed at the completely bewildered look on everyone’s faces if it weren’t for the serious nature of his thoughts. “I was just thinking about my vision, of seeing your Mum stand in the window…and the house exploding,” he said quietly.

“OH!” exclaimed Ron. As if realizing what a horrible memory that was for Harry, Ron’s face suddenly turned white. “Oh,” he repeated. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I should have thought before I spoke!”

Harry waved him off. “It’s not as bad as that, Ron. I was just thinking about it, and it’s not like your Mum got…hurt, or anything,” he said slowly, the thought alone of something happening to Molly Weasley was enough to make him shudder.

Fred took a cautious step towards Harry and when Harry finally made eye contact with him, he slowly put his arm around his shoulders. Harry let him, and the older redhead pulled the younger teen against his side, wanting him to feel as much comfort as he could possibly offer at the look Harry now had on his face. “Nothing’s going to happen to her, Harry,” he whispered for Harry’s ears only, and Harry momentarily wondered if Fred couldn’t read minds. Then he wondered just how clear his emotions were displayed on his face.

“Okay,” he instantly agreed, even though he knew no one could promise him nothing would happen to her, or to any of them for that matter. Besides, it was only a matter of time before someone else got killed. He planned to make sure it wasn’t one of his friends of family, if he could at all help it.

Soon, they were called into the kitchen for lunch, and Harry was more than happy to pull away from the somber mood that had fallen. Just being in Mrs. Weasley’s presence seemed to cheer them all and Harry sat down for the light meal he’d been promised. He rolled his eyes discretely when he picked up his mug to take a drink and realized Ron’s Mum had given him an herbal tea instead of Pumpkin juice. She obviously still thought he was ailing from something, even if she couldn’t figure out what it was. He cringed, taking a drink of the nasty liquid. He saw Ron snickering beside him and pelted him in the ribs with his elbow. Ron didn’t stop snickering. Deciding to ignore his friend and his antics, he picked up a turkey sandwich from the full platter she’d set in front of them and took a big bite. It tasted as good as he thought it would. Molly’s food, whether cooked or just thrown together, was always the best. Besides Deliverance’s that is. Hers was just as good, if not better, though he’d never tell Mrs. Weasley that.

…………………………………….

Harry sat outside on the damp grass underneath a large tree a few yards away from the Burrow. After a day surrounded by so many people he’d needed a moment of peace before entering the fray once more. He could hear Zane somewhere nearby, probably chasing another animal of some sort. Oddly, he felt safer being out here by himself knowing the Rottweiler wasn’t far from him. When they’d come to the Burrow, Zane had seemed adamant on coming too, having followed him about the entire time he’d been getting ready to leave and even going so far as to biting into the material of his jeans when he’d stepped into the fireplace. He’d given in at that point, assuming Zane had a good reason for wanting to come along. He’d realized early on that the Rottweiler was good luck, especially in dangerous situations, and it couldn’t hurt to have him along. And he was definitely glad the dog was with him.

Glancing up through the gaps in between leafy branches, Harry watched as the sun slowly descended and the sky steadily grew darker. Before he knew what was happening, his eyes drifted shut and he was sound asleep. It only took ten minutes for Harry to jerk awake with a start. In front of him was Zane, watching him with concern. He nuzzled Harry’s face, almost like he was intentionally comforting him. The raven-haired teen’s breathing was coming in short gasps, and he realized with a start he’d been at the beginning of a nightmare, but Zane had woken him just in time.

“Thank you, Zane. You’ll never know how much I appreciate you right now,” he said quietly, wrapping his arms around the large dog’s neck and hugging him.

A few minutes later, Harry finally dragged himself to his feet and started the long walk back to the Burrow, Zane following protectively behind him.

………………………………

“Where’ve you been, Harry?” asked Ron as he shut the front door behind him.

Harry shrugged. “Just outside with Zane.”

Ron stared at him for what seemed like a very long time before nodding his head. “So, are you okay?” he asked later.

“I’m fine, why?”

“You know…Mum, the house, the fire…all of that. Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a little more emphatic this time.

“Yes, I’m fine. You don’t have to worry so much, honestly. Between you, my father, your Mum, and now Draco, I’m just about worried out, at least with all of you worrying about me,” he said, not sure if that made as much sense to Ron as it did to him.

“Yeah, well, we’re your friends. It’s in our job description to worry about you,” he said, begrudgingly ignoring the fact that Malfoy had been mentioned at all.

Harry grinned. “Gee, thanks, Ron.”

“Any time, mate,” Ron was grinning as well and quickly stood up from the kitchen table where he’d been eating a snack. He glanced down at the empty plate of biscuits and groaned. “I’d offer you one, but it seems I’ve ate them all,” he said, actually looking a bit sad and upset. “Are you hungry?”

Harry shook his head. “No, its all right, Ron. I ate quite enough at dinner, thank you. Besides, I think if I never see another roasted potato in my life, it will be too soon.”

Ron laughed outright at that. “Sorry, Mum made so much food we’ll probably have leftovers for the next two weeks!”

“That’s too bad, I mean, it’s not like your Mum’s cooking is any good or anything?” he asked jokingly. “Whatever will you do with all that food?” It wasn’t as if Ron wasn’t their own personal vacuum when it came to eating.

Ron shrugged. “I’ll eat it, I guess.”

Harry laughed again before yawning widely, shoving his hand up to his mouth as he did so.

“Tired?” asked Ron.

Harry nodded. “Very,” he said, but with the near miss with the nightmare when he’d fallen asleep outside still clear in his mind, he wasn’t sure if he’d even get any sleep tonight. “I wonder when my Dad is going to show up?” he thought idly, not realizing he’d spoken aloud until Ron answered him.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you! In fact, I think you were outside when he fire-called my Mum, but he and Deliverance are still working on her house. I guess not everything was destroyed after the Death Eaters attacked and a few other villagers were there as well, rebuilding. So, basically, they’re going to stay over there and get a few more things finished, but they’re not sure how late they’ll be. He asked Mum if you and Malfoy could spend the night, and of course, she said yes! So, I hope you don’t mind staying?” he asked.

Harry shook his head. “No, I don’t mind!” he said, grinning. He loved it here almost as much as he was beginning to love his new home with Severus.

“I take it you’re ready for bed, though?” Ron asked when Harry couldn’t stifle yet another yawn.

“Yeah, I’m pretty exhausted. Where are we staying, though?” he thought to ask, considering he normally slept in Ron’s room, but with Draco staying as well, he wasn’t sure what the sleeping arrangements would be.

“Oh, yeah…” Ron trailed off, looking distinctly irritated. “He’s sleeping in my room with us. I don’t know why Mum thinks she can fit three people into my room, especially one as conceited as Malfoy, of all people!” he complained.

“Ron, we’ve fit more than three people in your room before,” he stated, feeling indignant on behalf of his Slytherin friend, but knowing Ron was just venting steam kind of helped. Even if he probably meant every word he said.

“Well, that was different,” he started, but at seeing the annoyance on Harry’s face, he wisely shut his mouth. “Mum’s already put out the cots if you want to go ahead and lie down,” he offered. “I think Malfoy’s already in there and I’ll be up after a while.”

Harry smiled gratefully and headed for the stairs. He saw Mrs. Weasley standing in the kitchen and quickly gave her a hug before she could.

“Are you heading for bed?” she asked gently, brushing a few errant strays of hair away from his face, her hand lingering on his skin, and Harry realized she was trying to subtly check his temperature again.

“Yes,” he answered, grinning at her.

“Well, goodnight then, darling,” she gave him another gentle hug before letting him go.

……………………………….

Harry didn’t close his eyes until long after Ron had fallen asleep on the bed above him. On Harry’s left side, Draco was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the eyes watching him. Harry didn’t know what he’d do if he had a nightmare. He’d end up waking the entire house…well, maybe not everyone, but at least the other two people in the room with him. He struggled uselessly to stay awake, but about two hours after Ron had come to bed, Harry’s eyes drifted shut of their own accord.

He managed a few hours of peaceful sleep before the nightmares kicked in. He tossed and turned, his body curling into a protective ball on his cot. Small whimpers left his lips and Draco stirred slightly across from him before turning on his side, still sleeping deep enough to not notice his friend’s discomfort.

The door to the boy’s room was quietly pushed open and a large, furry form entered the room. He walked to Harry’s side and nuzzled his face as he’d done earlier. Zane silently dropped down beside his boy and rested his head across Harry’s chest with one giant paw lying beside the boy’s face. Instantaneously, Harry’s struggles and whimpers ceased and he fell into a sleep devoid of nightmares. Even in sleep, Harry felt protected and safe.

……………………………………..

The next morning, Harry woke up feeling rested and happy. He sat up on his cot and looked around at his friends, both of which were still sleeping soundly. He climbed up from his bed and pulled one of Ron’s sweaters over his head before heading downstairs. It was kind of chilly that morning, even if it was the middle of summer.

Sitting down at the empty kitchen table, Harry wondered at his lack of nightmares. He was unaware that Zane had stayed with him the entire night and had left shortly after Harry began to stir from his restful sleep. Still, the green-eyed teen was extremely glad he’d gotten at least one night’s rest.

“Good morning, Harry,” greeted Mr. Weasley, trailing sleepily into the kitchen behind his wife.

“Hello, Harry,” she mussed his hair as she past, and Harry just left it. It wasn’t as if he could tame the raven locks, so why even bother? “Are Ron and Draco still sleeping?” she asked a moment later.

Harry picked up the glass of juice she’d sat down in front of him. “Yes.”

She acknowledged his answer with a kind smile and turned around to open a cupboard in front of her. She pulled out a few items and set to cooking breakfast. It looked like sausages, eggs, and…

“Where are those biscuits?” she asked, opening and shutting many of the cabinets before sighing. “Ronald,” she huffed under her breath.

Harry grinned at her, having come in last night after Ron had eaten the rest of them.

“I guess we’ll just have to make due with toast instead,” she muttered, setting the eggs to cooking as she reached for a bag of bread.

………………………….

After breakfast, Ron, Draco, and surprisingly Ginny were in the living room, doing nothing but sitting quietly. Ginny had brought down a book and was reading to herself wrapped up in a blanket. It was still unnaturally chilly, causing even Draco to borrow one of Ron’s sweaters…that was an interesting sight to behold. Harry had a feeling Mrs. Weasley may have coerced the blonde Slytherin into wearing it. It was of the home sewn variety, with a large green R on the front. It was probably a Christmas present from last year.

Harry chose not to comment, knowing Draco would just say something nasty or scowl at him.

Molly walked into the room a minute later with Ron, Fred, and George behind her. “Children,” she began, and Harry noticed all the redheads in the room rolled their eyes. Mrs. Weasley ignored them. “I know I cancelled our trip to Diagon Alley for this morning so you could be with Harry today, but last night I talked to Professor Snape and he agreed to let Harry and Draco come with us,” she turned to the two boys in question. “Unless you’d rather stay in?” she asked.

Harry shook his head immediately. He hadn’t gotten to leave the Manor since the Holiday had started. He looked questioningly at his friends. “Do you guys want to go?” he asked timidly. He wouldn’t go if they didn’t want to.

“Yes!” they all exclaimed. Even Draco looked a little excited about getting out of the house and into the fresh air. He’d been cooped up as well, first hiding out at Malfoy Manor and then at home with Severus.

Harry smiled. “Brilliant.”

…………………………….

Diagon Alley was bustling with all sorts of people. The weather was probably the reason for this, as the past few days had been muggy and hot, whereas today was cool and pleasant, especially with the breeze that kicked up every now and then.

However, Harry’s happiness was short lived for as soon as he’d stepped into the crowded Alley, most of the movement going on around him stopped. He looked up to see many faces, young and old, staring at him. Staring at his scar.

“That’s Harry Potter,” whispered a young girl to her friend beside her. That set both of them into a fit of giggles and Harry groaned. He’d forgotten about his enhanced ‘celebrity’ status, ever since he’d destroyed Voldemort.

As conversation started again, he heard his name and that of ‘You-Know-Who’ so many times he thought he would gag. He glanced at Ron and Draco, both of whom just shrugged their shoulders, but as their eyes widened at a point over his shoulder, Harry spun around to see a girl around his age coming towards him. She had long dark hair and big eyes, but the look on her face was almost predatory. She kept looking behind her, and Harry saw a group of girls whispering encouragingly to her.

Harry groaned again. “You have got to be kidding me,” he said. He turned around and nearly walked straight into Ginny, who was giving the dark haired girl the evil eye.

The girl had stopped at seeing Ginny’s look, but almost immediately her eyes grew fiercesome as well, and she continued towards him. Ginny growled. Harry gave her a weird look.

“What?” she asked.

“You’re growling?”

“Well, you know she’s just after you because you’re famous!” she exclaimed. Once more the dark haired girl stopped moving and looked back at her friends hesitantly.

“So what, she’s hot!” intoned Ron.

Harry started laughing when he saw who was standing behind Ron. He hadn’t known she was coming, but this was just getting better and better.

“That’s disgusting, Ron!” said Hermione, causing Ron to jump clear off the ground before turning to face her contritely.

“Her-Hermione!” he stuttered, his face almost as red as a beet.

“Ron,” she said hotly, before turning to talk to Ginny and completely ignoring the sputtering Ron.

“Ah, how the mighty have fallen,” Harry said, slapping Ron on the back. Ron looked confused. “I’ve just always wanted to say that…” he trailed off, noticing the girl was coming closer again, un-intimidated by the look Ginny and now Hermione were currently giving her.

“I’m leaving,” said Harry, and walked straight back into the Leaky Cauldron. He didn’t wait to see if anyone was following him, and he didn’t really care, either. He didn’t want to have to deal with drooling girls, whispered words and sidelong looks all day long while he was trying to have a good time. He turned around and was almost surprised to see everyone had followed him. “You guys can stay, you know. I was actually thinking of going into Muggle London for some new clothes,” he added, hoping the others wouldn’t feel as if they had to go with him.

Arthur Weasley immediately perked up at that. “Muggle London? Really?” he asked, edging closer to the green-eyed teen. “You’ll need an escort no matter where we go today,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’d be pleased to fill that roll.”

Harry grinned, seeing the excited look on the man’s face at the idea of going into Muggle London. “Okay,” answered Harry. Now, no one would feel they had to go with him, with Arthur coming along. And he knew Mr. Weasley wasn’t doing it just for him.

But, as it turned out, everyone else wanted to come as well, except for Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, who both had to go into Diagon Alley to buy some new robes. Ginny was apparently outgrowing all of her clothes and she was now almost taller than Harry, something Harry wasn’t too pleased with. He didn’t like the fact that he was so damn short.

“Oh, Harry!” called Mrs. Weasley just before they’d left. Harry turned and rushed over to her.

“Yes?”

“Your father will meet us here to pick you and Draco up around three. Be sure to be back by then,” she informed the teen and Harry nodded. He’d actually begun to miss his father and would be happy to see him.

Harry hurried to catch up with his friends out on the street waiting for him. “Where to first?” asked Ron, looking up and down the street. Thankfully, they’d dressed in their everyday wear, and didn’t look too out of sorts of the Muggles traversing around them. Arthur looked a little more odd than most, but no one seemed to pay him much attention.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Actually, I’m really not sure. I’ve never gone to any of the stores before, except the ones closer to the Dursley’s,” he explained, not seeing the angry looks that passed between his friends at the mention of his relatives.

Hermione took over then, having been into London with her parents a fair few times. “There’s a nice little shop a few blocks away from here, if I remember correctly. It wouldn’t take long to walk,” she said, mentally going over the path to the store in her head. Harry and Ron could almost see the wheels turning.

That was fine with all of them, so they started in the direction Hermione pointed them in. As their bushy haired friend had said, it didn’t take long at all to arrive at the clothing shop. Harry stared at it, feeling a little excitement at the thought of buying his own clothes. Clothes that would fit!

Not one to waste an opportunity, and also not one to enjoy going to a dozen stores just to look for clothing, he decided to get everything he’d need here. And, he was in luck, as they sold pretty much everything he would need as well. A store clerk came up to them at one point, asking if they needed any assistance.

“Oh no, that’s all right. We’re just looking,” said Harry, smiling. The young woman smiled in return before wondering off to ask other shoppers if they needed any help.

Harry found quite a few t-shirts and long sleeved shirts he liked and added them to the growing pile of things he planned on buying. Jeans were next, and he quickly headed in that direction. He saw Mr. Weasley looking longing at a pair of bright green running pants. Laughing to himself, he made his way over to his friend’s father.

“Molly would kill me,” he said, indicating the pants he was looking at.

Harry grinned. “I could get them for you and that way Mrs. Weasley will think they’re mine,” he offered, watching the older man. “Then you could hide them somewhere.” Harry honestly didn’t know when the man would wear them, probably during times when he had to go into the Muggle world and act incognito. However, these pants weren’t exactly stealth personified.

“Oh no, Harry, you can’t do that.”

“It’s fine! I want to! And, besides, you’ve let me stay with you numerous times. It’s the least I can do to pay back your kindness,” he said awkwardly.

Mr. Weasley gently took Harry’s shoulders and turned the boy around to face him. “We take you in because we care about you, Harry. We don’t want you to feel like you have to ‘pay’ us back, in any way, shape, or form. Understand?” he asked, his eyes showing the affection and care he was referring to. “If you really want to get me these pants, I would love to have them, but I’ll pay you back as soon as we arrive home.”

Harry nodded, unable to take his eyes off of Mr. Weasley’s. “Okay,” he answered.

“Just don’t tell Molly,” he said, breaking the serious air around them.

Harry grinned. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” he said. “Thanks, Mr. Weasley.” Not looking back at the older man, Harry grabbed the pair of green pants out of Mr. Weasley’s hands and took them over to where Fred and George were sitting with his ‘to buy’ pile of clothes.

“Harry? What the heck are those?” asked George, looking a trifle horrified.

Laughing outright at the look on his friends’ faces, Harry threw the pants down on the pile. “Don’t ask.”

……………………………..

A gentle tug at the bottom of his shirt caught Harry’s attention as he stood waiting for his friends. They were now in a bookstore, a rather large one that housed everything from graphic novels to the type of literature Hermione liked to read. Fred, George, and Ron had found a few comic type books that they were enjoying over at a table in the corner whilst Hermione was perusing the bookshelves somewhere in the back. Arthur was up front chatting with the store owner and Harry had just wondered over to the Mystery section when he’d felt someone pulling at his shirt.

Looking down, he saw a little boy standing next to him. As Harry knelt down, he saw the child had tears in his eyes and looked lost. Instantly, Harry felt his heart tug at the scared look on the little boy’s face.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Jack,” he answered timidly.

Harry patted the little blonde head reassuringly. “Are you here with your parents?”

“Yes,” he said sadly. “But, now I can’t find them.”

Harry held out his hand and after a moment Jack took Harry’s larger hand and wrapped his fingers through Harry’s. “Let’s go find them, okay?”

Jack nodded eagerly, happy to have found someone who was willing to help him. The mean man a few rows down had snarled at him and told him to go away.

Looking back towards his friends, Harry decided not to bother them; it wasn’t as if he was going to go far. Harry and Jack walked throughout the many rows of shelves, looking for the little boy’s parents. “Do you know what your Mummy and Daddy’s names are?” Harry thought to ask.

The blonde boy look up at him and nodded. “Yes, Katheryn and Josiah.”

Harry nodded and headed towards the front desk. “Excuse me, sir?” he asked, wondering where Mr. Weasley had gone off to.

The clerk looked up from his desk and sighed. “Yes?”

“I’m looking for this boy’s parents. Do you remember seeing them?” he asked, and lifted the little boy into his arms to sit on his hip. “They’re names are Katheryn and Josiah,” he added for good measure.

The clerk smiled in remembrance. “Yes, I remember seeing them come in. Hold on, I’ll page them.”

A few minutes later a worried couple came rushing up to the front of the bookstore. They’re smiles were bright as they took the little boy into their arms.

”Thank you!” said Kathryn, going so far as to even give Harry a slight hug. Harry flinched and stepped away from the woman. “We looked down and he wasn’t there, and then you paged us,” she said, looking towards the clerk. “Thank you again!”

Josiah shook Harry’s hand before walking off after his wife and son. A few seconds later, Jack came jogging back to give him a hug. “Mummy says to say thank you,” he said, indicating his parents who were standing a little ways away.

“You’re welcome,” said Harry, and watched as the boy ran back to his parents.

Harry waved a hand at the clerk and went back to find his friends. Walking back towards the sitting tables, Harry turned the corner and saw Ron and Draco talking concernedly to Mr. Weasley, while Fred, George, and Hermione stood by. He walked over quickly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, silencing the group.

“Where have you been!” exclaimed Arthur, rushing over and taking Harry’s shoulders in his hands. He lightly shook him. “We were worried sick!”

Harry shrugged his way out of Mr. Weasley’s hold and took a step back. “I was just helping Jack to find his parents. He got lost,” he tried to explain.

The eldest Weasley shook his head. “That doesn’t matter. You never walk away without telling us where you’ve gone!” he said, his voice laced with anger and concern.

“We thought you’d been taken by Death Eaters, or something!” said Ron, sounding just as angry as his father. “You should have told us you were going to help that kid!”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, truly regretting not saying anything. He just hadn’t thought it was that big of a deal. He was almost 16 years old; he could take care of himself for cripe’s sake! It wasn’t as if he’d left the bookstore, and he said as much.

“We couldn’t find you, Harry. This store is huge, and almost like a maze with all the shelves,” said Hermione, her face still lined with worry.

“Why didn’t you page me, like I did with Jack’s parents?” he asked then, remembering how he had found the little boy’s family.

The Weasley’s looked confused and Hermione looked like she was internally berating herself. “Oh, why didn’t I think of that!” she said heatedly. “But the Weasley’s wouldn’t have known about the system, Harry. So just the same, you need to tell us before you decide to wonder off like that.”

Harry nodded, feeling a little low after the good day he’d been having. “Okay, sorry.”

………………………………..

It was now almost three o’clock, time for them to meet Severus back at the Leaky Cauldron. Harry was just imagining how much trouble he was going to get into when his father found out what he’d done in the bookstore. How much worse could his day get?

His friends were keeping silent and a little bit ahead of him. No one was talking, and Harry felt even more awful for ruining everyone else’s day as well. All this because he’d tried to help a kid, how pathetic was that?

He nearly tripped on a stone in the sidewalk and when he looked down, he noticed his shoelace was untied. He quickly bent down to tie it and was about to call out to his friends to hold on for a minute when strong arms grabbed him around his waist and pulled him upright. He didn’t see the man’s face, but he just knew whom the man was before he’d even started speaking.

“Get in the car,” spat the man, pulling Harry ever closer to the side of the road. Looking around wildly, Harry noticed that Uncle Vernon’s car was parked on the side of the street. He cursed himself for not noticing it. Then the situation he was in finally brought him back to focus and he struck out at his Uncle.

“Let me go!” he yelled, kicking and clawing at the man behind him. Vernon suddenly turned him around and slapped him across the face. The force of the impact sent him to the sidewalk.

“Hey!” yelled a voice Harry didn’t recognize. He looked up to see a man running towards him with his wife trailing just behind. “Leave that kid alone! What the hell are you doing!” Harry glanced up the street and saw his friends and Mr. Weasley rushing towards him, each of them looking horrified and angry.

His moment of relief was short lived as he was suddenly and viciously pulled to his feet and hauled once more to the car. He fought back, struggling against the large man, but nothing he did seemed to even slow his Uncle down. “Get off of me!” he screamed, throwing his head back. He knew if he got in that car his world would come to an end. As his struggles grew more intense, Vernon once more resorted to violence.

He turned Harry around again and punched him in the face, twice, completely dazing Harry, and threw him in the car.

“No!” Harry heard the scream from somewhere beyond his foggy vision and recognized a moment later that it belonged to Fred.

The next thing he was aware of was movement from the car, and he realized they were driving away. He was in the hands of his insane Uncle and a lone tear streamed down his face.

…………………………………………

Harry felt the car roll to a stop, the squeak of the roughly halted vehicle bringing his worrying thoughts back to the present. It had been a bit before the pain blossoming behind his eyes receded enough for him to take in his surroundings. How did his uncle always know to hit him just there? Practice, he answered morosely. But the abrupt turns and jostling of the car against his fresh bruises had finally made him look for an escape, only to find that the lock to his left had obviously been broken or jammed. The entire ride had been eerily silent, Vernon never even looked at him, and somehow that made it even more frightening.

Now, as Harry looked out the window, he realized they were in a deserted, shady, back street. Harry was nearly hyperventilating, his heart pounding so hard he felt his whole chest ache with the effort.

“W-what do you want?” he managed to ask. “How did you find me?”

Vernon spat, “I saw you in that bookstore, trying to help that little brat find his parents!” He paused, a look of grief passing over his features before they contorted again with hatred, “You killed them,” grinding from between his teeth.

Harry shook his head in denial; he knew Vernon meant his wife and son. “No, I didn’t! That wasn’t my fault! It was Voldemort!” he yelled back. He cried out as Vernon slapped him hard across the face.

“Shut your damn mouth!” he roared, slapping Harry again to enforce his words. “You, YOU brought that evil into my house. That thing would never have come but for you! I knew we should’ve gotten rid of you from the start, but Petunia …” he trailed off, a choked cry, “Petunia …”

Harry moved as far from his uncle as the seat allowed. “You’re the reason they’re dead,” muttered Vernon, his eyes raking over Harry.

“I-I’m sorry.” Sadly, Harry believed it, too. After all, without Harry, Voldemort would have had no reason to target the Dursleys from any other muggles. “I’m sorry,” he said again quietly, hoping to placate his uncle’s rage.

“You’re going to be,” Vernon growled dangerously. Harry felt his insides turn to liquid as he realized how truly trapped he was, with someone who would like nothing more than to beat him to death, someone with little left to lose. Suddenly Harry was hauled up to Vernon’s face as he spat, “I’ve wanted to get my hands on you just one last time, dreamt of it. You’re going to regret the day you were ever left on my doorstep, Freak.”

Harry had a second of thinking that he’d been regretting that for years, before Vernon once again slammed his fist into the side of his head, landing his small body across the seat. Then Vernon was on top of him, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, ready to hit him again. Vernon’s weight pressed down upon Harry and flashes of intense fear and sensation stole through him.

Heavy, so heavy, can’t breathe

He gasped as the memories assaulted his vision.

PAIN…long forgotten

PAIN…shoved deep away

No! Please, DON’T! I’ll do anything! I’ll be good! Please, Uncle!…Of a sweating, heaving body pressed hard against his chest…no, his back?…he fought, so hard, but it never helped, he couldn’t get away,

PAIN…excruciating pain, ripping him apart…hands crushing into his hips

Knees and elbows scraping against the floor…Breath, rank upon his neck

Harry cried out in horror, his body convulsing, “Nooooooooo,” he moaned, “Nooooo, oh God, please, Nooooo.” He was choking, gasping as he feebly pushed against the man above him.

Impossibly wide, green eyes, bright with terror met those of Vernon as a slow grin broke across his face. “So, you disgusting, little bastard,” breathed Vernon, “You do remember your lessons after all.” He was so sure that the beating he gave the boy after getting those letters had finally put the brat in his place; ensured that he would never risk telling anyone. But then he wondered if he hadn’t damaged the boy, the way he acted as if he might not even remember those times when his uncle taught him his true place. But now, it was all there, in the eyes below him. He saw the terror, the revulsion, the memories clearly reflected there and he relished in the thrill that went through him again.

When he had seen the boy in the store, it was all he could do not to strangle him then; but he had waited, waited until he could enjoy killing the miserable wretch with his own hands and savor it. Now he had the boy, the cause of all his troubles, he knew it. His hands found their way to Harry’s throat, closed around the thin neck, felt the bones shift beneath his fingers and again, that thrill coursed through him. He released his grip in favor of tearing Harry’s shirt open. The feel of flesh under his fingers caused him to stiffen with excitement; oh, how he had missed this. One hand held against the pale chest, supporting his weight, Vernon dropped his other hand to the zip of his breeches, wheezing with arousal as he did so.

Harry had been paralyzed; it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t, it . . . was. He felt Vernon press against him, cover him, smother him – and then those hands, hands he now remembered in detail – he couldn’t breathe! His vision grayed, but his mind was overwhelmed . . .

As Vernon’s hands wandered over his body, Harry’s mind drifted as the air was forced from his small form, leaving him struggling to draw in a single breath. He felt the hand dip down towards his trousers and tried to knock the hand away, but Vernon was easily able to trap his wrist in one beefy hand. Knowing he was on the verge of passing out, he untangled his other arm from underneath him and pushed weakly at the large hand still pressing down on his chest. It was a futile effort, and Harry felt his consciousness slipping away when the grating sound of a zipper pulsed through his thoughts.

‘No.’

He’d momentarily forgotten where he was, that he wasn’t just a child with no way to defend himself. He remembered then, he was a wizard. A very powerful one at that. But he was so tired he didn’t know if he could summon the power or energy to pull off the type of performance he’d done before. However, all thoughts ceased to exist and his roaring power surged to life as he felt that hand reaching into his trousers and touching him. Unbeknownst to Harry, his back arched and his eyes glowed a fierce white.

One moment, Vernon had been about to savor his prize when in the next instant he felt a searing pain as he was viciously thrown from the car. He hit the driver’s side door with an impact that ripped the door from the car and landed nearly a block away.

Harry gulped in as much air as his lungs would allow, gingerly sitting up. He looked down and saw the state he was in. A shudder swept through him as he re-zipped his pants and pulled what was left of his shirt around his thin frame before climbing from the car. Across the street, he could see what was left of his Uncle lying prone on the grass. He gasped in shock as the form started to move.

“No,” he moaned, starting to run down the street and away from his attacker. He never once looked back, too afraid he’d see the man of his nightmares chasing after and catching up with him.