Harry was actually quite as scared as he had looked in Erin's front yard. He had done magic outside of school again. Accidental, to be sure but the Ministry did not seem to differentiate where he was concerned. An owl could even now be winging its way to him from the ‘Improper Use of Magic' office. After the fiasco of his hearing at the ministry last August Harry was in no hurry to repeat the experience. True, last year's transgression far outweighed today's small misdemeanour; he had actually used his wand then, even if it was in an effort to save both himself and Dudley.  But Harry wouldn't put it past Fudge to try and get him expelled again, even though the fool could no longer deny that Voldemort had returned.

All these thoughts crowded Harry's already teeming mind when he entered number four. It did not even register with him that Aunt Petunia had returned from her shopping trip until she stopped him from ascending the stairs where he had planned to have a shower before Uncle Vernon got home.

"Where have you been?" she asked in the cold voice she always adopted whenever she addressed her nephew. Before Harry had a chance to answer her, the front door was thrown open and Dudley came hurtling through. When he saw his mother and Harry, the look of fear that had appeared when he had been buffeted by the storm of Harry's emotions turned, to sadistic anticipation.

Harry groaned inwardly as he slumped against the banister for support. If he didn't sit down in a minute, he would fall down. He was dizzy and he was finding it difficult to take a deep breath as the pain in his ribs seemed to have intensified again...maybe it was the stress of the last few minutes and his burst of wild magic. He thought dimly that he might have a touch of sun stroke.

"Mum, the freak was next door with Ms Hanson! He was in her house and he did magic in front of her and Piers and Malcolm," said Dudley with breathless glee.

Petunia's mouth dropped open in horror. "You used that-that thing in front of other people?" What little colour there was in the pallid woman's face had receded. Vernon's and her greatest fear was that the normal people they lived near would find out their terrible secret...that they had a wizard living in their home and that their was such a thing as magic-a fact that they blocked out of their conscious mind whenever they could.

"I didn't use my wand," said Harry tiredly. "I just got a little over emotional when Dudley started bad mouthing me." He knew Aunt Petunia would not care whether he had been able to control the magic or not. Just as he knew that as soon as Uncle Vernon walked in the door, he would be told all the scandalous details and that he, Harry would suffer accordingly.

Even if Aunt Petunia bit her tongue and refrained from telling her husband because she knew that another beating would be the consequence-and she already knew that Harry was suffering more than a little as a result of the previous punishments-Dudley would have no such compunction.

"Go to your room!" Petunia's pointed up the stairs and her whole body was shaking with fury. "Why can't you just do what you're told to do and be quiet and stay out of everyone's way the rest of the time?"

"Because it wouldn't matter what I did or how quiet I was! Your shite of a husband would find some reason to attack me," yelled Harry and he had to wrap his arm around his ribs as the pain stabbed him. "He enjoys hitting me, Aunt Petunia. Haven't you worked that one out yet?" Harry turned and dragged himself the rest of the way up the stairs.

In his room he grabbed some clean clothes and headed for the bathroom. If he didn't shower now, he wouldn't be able to after Uncle Vernon had finished with him. But much to Harry's surprise, there was no warning from the Improper Use of Magic Office, and other than a prolonged rant and the instruction that he not inflict his company on them that evening, Uncle Vernon did not touch Harry. He had no doubt that his uncle's forbearance was entirely due to his aunt's interference. Harry found it difficult to feel gratitude though. It was too little, too late.

Of course, they conveniently forgot to feed Harry that evening but he really did not care. He lay on his bed, more apathetic than usual, but perhaps not in quite as much pain from his sunburn as he could have been because he had used Erin's aloe vera gel and it had worked as well as she said it would. He remembered, as if from another life, using aloe vera in a couple of healing potions back in his third year.

Unfortunately thinking of potions inevitably led to thoughts of  the Potions Master at Hogwarts, Severus Snape. Harry had hated the man from the moment he had first set foot inside his classroom nearly six years ago-a feeling more than reciprocated by Snape-but that hatred had increased a hundredfold since the events of a couple of weeks ago. Harry would never forget or forgive Snape's involvement in Sirius' death.

Harry knew that if Snape had given him some sign that he had understood his frantic signal in Umbridge's office, then he would not have gone haring off to London, and as a result put his friends' lives in danger and caused Sirius' death. Yep, it was a difficult decision to decide which one of the two pillocks he hated the most...Vernon Dursley or Severus Snape.

Harry closed his eyes and at this moment, feeling as lousy as he did, he wished that he was dead. He wished that he could join Sirius and his parents wherever they were because right now, being here, and being the sodding ‘Boy Who Lived' so that he could either kill or be killed by sodding Voldemort-and therefore fulfil a bloody prophecy that had he but known it, had ruled his life since the day he had been born-filled him with fear and despair.

His whole life had been pre-ordained, and he had always been jerked around like a puppet on a string by the adults in his life. For the first time since finding out that he was a wizard, Harry wished heartily that he wasn't.

Harry did not think that the wish to want to be with his parents and his Godfather was so very strange, but despite this sometimes overwhelming desire, he had to admit that the thought of dying scared him senseless. And as there was no way in hell that he had the sort of power needed to defeat the greatest dark wizard the world had ever seen, then he was going to die...and probably soon because Voldemort was really pissed off with him for destroying the record of the bloody prophecy.

Harry pressed the heel of his hands hard into his eyes in an effort to stave off the angry tears that wanted to well up. Then, carefully, he turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around his injured ribs, and closing his eyes, he tried not to feel too sorry for himself.

8888

Over The next couple of days, the Dursleys left Harry alone (except for Dudley who would bang loudly on Harry's bedroom door every time he walked past it). Mostly Harry just lay on his bed staring at the crack in the ceiling or dozing fitfully. He didn't even bother going down for meals. Just before dinner the day following his meeting with Erin, Aunt Petunia appeared at his bedroom door to insist that he come down for a meal.

"Those freaks are not going to say we don't feed you on top of everything else," she informed him, looking as if she had swallowed a lemon. Harry looked at her with dull, listless eyes.

"I'm not hungry."

"How can you not be hungry?" she asked acerbically. "You haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday." She paused and her lips almost disappeared before she spoke again. Harry had often pondered how anyone could possibly talk without any lips but his aunt managed admirably, even if her speech did sound like a slow leaking tyre puncture.

"I suppose that red-headed woman with that horde of children is sending you food again. I know she has in the past." Harry would have rolled his eyes had he had the energy.

"Yeah, that's right. Mrs Weasley is sending me food," he said disinterestedly before returning to his contemplation of the ceiling.

"Fine!" Petunia swept away in high dudgeon, almost as if it upset her that Harry preferred Molly Weasley's cooking to her own.

Harry had not been getting food from Mrs Weasley, not this year. Every day, an owl would arrive either from either the Burrow, Hermione or Moony, checking up on him, and every couple of days Harry forced himself to write a brief note back to one or the other of them saying he was fine and that he was being treated OK.

He knew that his short, uninformative missives would probably worry everyone nearly as much as not hearing from him at all, but it was all he could stir himself do to. He had to do at least that much because Uncle Vernon was on his case to ‘keep those freaks informed that you are healthy and well'. Vernon did not trust Harry not to send secret tales of torture and starvation, and so he insisted on reading Harry's letters before they were sealed and sent.

Despite his lethargy, Harry eventually found himself going a little stir crazy, and so, the afternoon following Aunt Petunia's tirade, he forced himself to go for a walk. His ribs still hurt but not quite as badly as they had. Still, he had to move carefully. For nearly forty-eight hours the longest walk he had taken was to the bathroom and back and all he had ingested since the half sandwich at Erin's house was water.

So it was no surprise when halfway down the stairs, a wave of dizziness struck and Harry had to grab the banister with both hands and sit down with his head resting against his upraised arms where he still clung to the railing. After several minutes everything stopped spinning and he was able to stand again, albeit a little unsteadily. He made it out the front door without encountering any of his relatives; a lucky happenstance for which he offered up a quick prayer of thanks.

With his hands thrust deep in the pockets of Dudley's old cargo pants and his head lowered, Harry slopped along in his overlarge trainers until he had left Privet Drive behind. He had no particular destination in mind and so he headed in the direction of the park, quickly passing the mouth of the alleyway that formed the shortcut between Wisteria Walk and Magnolia Crescent, the place where the two Dementors had attacked Dudley and himself the previous summer. The memory of that horrible evening still gave Harry goosebumps.

When he finally reached the park, Harry saw that several kids were playing on the equipment and so he kept on walking. The day was overcast and quite cold for July (certainly a lot cooler than it had been the last time he had been outside working in the garden) and eerie tendrils of stormy grey-coloured mist kept on wrapping themselves around Harry's body before dissipating entirely.

He looked around. The mist could be seen everywhere. It was not actually fog, but patches of damp haziness that could be seen floating everywhere and Harry shivered, glad he was wearing a hoody.

Harry did not know how long he had been walking; he seemed to be on automatic pilot. He just hoped that he could tire himself out enough so that he could get a couple of hours of decent sleep.

When a car eased towards the gutter and kept pace with him, Harry did not immediately realise, so immersed was he in his thoughts. He did not even register the female voice calling his name until it was repeated a little more loudly.

Harry looked up to find Erin grinning at him through the rolled down passenger window of her jaunty, yellow VW. He stepped closer to the car and smiled back. "Hi."

"How are you Harry?"

"Fine thanks. Um-the Aloe Vera was great for my sunburn by the way."

"I'm glad. There's no danger of you getting sunburnt today. How miserable is this weather? It's nearly as cold as the middle of winter." As if on cue, Harry shivered and huddled further into his worn, overlarge hoody.

Erin came to one of her lightening fast decisions. "I'm just heading off to the mall for a bit of lunch. I'd love some company."

The smile slid off Harry's face and he looked down at his overlarge trainers. "Um, thanks but I haven't got any money on me. I'm not really dressed for the shops anyway."

Erin had seen the state of Harry's clothes the day that she had met him and she had known then that the finely built boy was wearing his cousin's hand-me-downs. The hoody he had on now was so large it was difficult to see the outline of his body under its enveloping folds. She seethed inwardly and wondered how Petunia Dursley could allow a child that she was responsible for to be seen in public in the worn and too large clothes that Harry wore. Especially when it was obvious that money was not an issue when her son wore nothing but expensive designer gear.

She found it hard to believe that both boys lived in the same household. She knew that the Dursley's were Harry's guardians because her parents had told her as much. So how they could so obviously make flesh of one boy and fish of the other was beyond her comprehension.

But of course, they also made up lies about Harry being a delinquent when she would bet her entire year's wages that Harry was a kind and considerate boy, and that if there was a delinquent in the Dursley household, it was Dudley. She had seen him around the neighbourhood with a gang of no less than five other boys. Once, she had seen them commandeering the playground equipment whilst several younger children had stood at a distance, too frightened to go any closer.

And she knew for a fact that Dudley smoked. He probably drank alcohol too, because she had once found some empty Jack Daniels cans on her front lawn, and as Privet Drive was not exactly a bustling thoroughfare, and Dudley had been home for the Christmas break and she had heard him and his cronies outside late the night before, she had drawn her own conclusions.

It was obvious to her that Harry was an unwelcome addition to the Dursley household and the poor boy certainly seemed to be far from overjoyed to be there. She had more than a niggling suspicion that he was ill-treated also. She remembered the state of his face the other day and how gingerly he had moved. Then there was the fact that he had been slaving in the garden during the hottest part of the day with no hat or sunscreen for protection, and he had been on the verge of collapse when she had first seen him.

Erin snapped out of her reverie when Harry muttered a reluctant, "See you," and turned to walk back in the direction of Privet drive. Erin was having none of that. She quickly put the car in neutral and pulled on the handbrake before jumping out and running to catch up with Harry. She had a hold of his arm and was pulling him back to the car before he knew what was happening.

"I won't take no for an answer Harry. I hate eating out alone. I always feel so conspicuous and as I'm hungry, I choose you to be the gentleman who keeps me company."

Harry blinked dazedly. The woman was like a human steam-roller, squashing flat any and all objections. Before he knew it, he had been thrust into Erin's car and they were heading towards Tescoes. He found that he could not muster any resentment towards her high handed attitude though. After all, what red-blooded teenage male would not be happy (and a tad smug) to be spending time in the company of such an attractive older woman.

8888

Tescoes was as usual, bustling. As Harry and Erin crossed the car park, Harry tried surreptitiously to flatten his hair; as usual the effort was a pointless waste of time. Erin didn't say anything, but her heart bled for the young boy as she watched his efforts to improve his untidy appearance. Her anger against the Dursleys intensified as Harry tried to anchor those ridiculous pants around his slim waist-a pointless exercise when even the tail of the belt he had poked an extra hole in nearly encircled his torso a second time.

Erin put her arm through Harry's and smiled brightly when he looked at her. "Just making sure the world knows that you're my date," she said, and Harry's face flared with uncomfortable heat. He relaxed a little though when Erin led him to a booth where he could slide right up against the wall, hidden from any condemnatory eyes that judged on appearance alone.

When Erin asked Harry what he would like to eat he made a pretence of studying the menu. In truth, the thought of food made him want to heave but he was right to think Erin would override him if he said he wasn't hungry. So he ordered a toasted ham and cheese sandwich and a glass of coke.

Five minutes later Erin returned with a tray laden with food and drinks. Harry found, along with his sandwich, a huge bowl of chips set down in front of him. The smell of the chips turned his stomach and he had to take several deep breaths to fight back the nausea. He grinned weakly at his companion and Erin beamed at him.

"You need feeding up young Harry. I'm chuffed to be sitting eating my lunch with such a dashing date but just between you and me, I like a man with just a little more meat on his bones. It will be my mission to fatten you up before you go back to school next term."

Harry's cheeks bloomed with more spectacular colour during this speech. He wished she wouldn't say things like that. He knew what he looked like...after all he did look in the mirror occasionally.

"Come on...eat up," ordered Erin and there was a determined glint in her eye. For some reason or other, this woman who had not known Harry from Adam three days ago, seemed to have taken his welfare to heart. With another pained grin, he picked up half of the sandwich and took a small bite.

Erin kept up a steady stream of conversation that did not require much effort on Harry's part. He was happy to look at her and listen to her animated voice, and though he really couldn't come at the chips he did manage to eat most of one half of the sandwich. There was something about Erin Hanson that made him feel good about himself.

Harry's brow creased as a thought occurred to him. "Um...Erin, what's your surname?"

Erin smiled. "I kept my surname when I got married, Harry. So, its Hanson."

Harry was laughing at one of Erin's amusing anecdotes about life in Australia and she was delighted to see him so totally relaxed. She was practically mesmerized by the sparkle in those amazingly gorgeous emerald eyes. She could not believe just how quickly this underfed, scruffy, but oh so adorable adolescent male had gotten under her skin. As a teacher she had tried not to have favourites amongst her students and on the whole she had succeeded. It wasn't always easy because some children were needier than others and whilst some of them held themselves aloof, others seemed to need extra attention...extra caring.

Harry was one of the ones who held himself slightly aloof whilst projecting an unmistakable need for approval. Erin felt an overwhelming desire to scoop him up, feed him and protect him from the big, bad world. Somehow, she knew that this young boy's life so far had been full of trials and tribulations and that he had more or less coped alone. It was obvious that those relatives did not give him any of the love or support that he needed. She wanted to give him what those Dursley horrors didn't; she wanted to make him feel that he did not have to cope alone, which was totally ridiculous because she supposed the boy would be leaving again for his boarding school in a few weeks and she may never see him again.

Erin's eyes reflected the inexplicable affection she felt as she watched Harry raise the large glass of coke to his lips. She saw his eyes widen and the heavy glass slip through his fingers and spill its remaining contents across the table. Luckily, there was only a small amount of drink left and Erin's quick action with some paper napkins stopped any liquid dripping off the table's surface and into Harry's lap. But the noise of the heavy glass hitting the Formica topped table had caused quite a few pairs of eyes to look in their direction, including those belonging to the two people who had been the cause of Harry's uncharacteristic clumsiness.

Petunia and Dudley Dursley gaped at the sight of Harry sitting in a booth with their very attractive next door neighbour. Oh, how Harry wished that he had his invisibility cloak, particularly when Aunt Petunia's shock turned to tight lipped rage and Dudley's to narrow-eyed, malicious glee. Harry could see what his nasty shite of a cousin was thinking. Apart from the fact that he had something to tell his father that would ultimately cause Harry pain, Dudley's dirty mind was turning Harry's friendship with Erin into something sordid.

Erin had turned around to see what had Harry looking so horrified. Considering how upset Harry was, she wasn't really all that surprised to see the Dursleys. Petunia was white with suppressed rage and Dudley was leering at her in the way she had come to expect from him. The large, unattractive boy really gave her the creeps. She did not think she had ever felt quite so revolted by a sixteen year old in her life and her work as a teacher had put her in the path of many unpleasant teens.

Harry had been worried that people would condemn him for his overlarge clothes but no-one had looked at him askance. People were, however, gawking openly at the sight of the stick thin, Petunia Dursley standing protectively close to her whale-sized offspring

When Petunia put a claw-like hand on her super-sized son's arm to drag him away, some devil took hold of Erin and she found herself addressing her neighbours. "Mrs Dursley, Dudley...what a small world. Won't you join us?" She was sorry when she felt Harry's appalled gaze on her face but it was too late now, and besides, she really wanted to show this nasty pair that Harry had a firm friend and ally in her.

"I'm sorry for kidnapping your nephew," Erin continued blithely. "I hadn't realised that you had plans today and it obviously slipped Harry's mind as well." She threw a bright smile at Harry who looked, she noted sadly, as though he would quite like to disappear. Little did Erin know, that was exactly what Harry was wishing and if he had known how to Apparate, he most certainly would have and damn the laws against underage sorcery.

"Please, join us." Harry heard the words and hoped that this whole scenario was a bad dream and that he would wake up in very short order. It had been such a lovely dream before the Dursleys had appeared, featuring just himself and Erin. A quick sideways glance showed him that two of the Dursleys were indeed there. His head drooped as if it had suddenly become far too heavy for his neck.

Erin had left Petunia no choice but to accept the pleasantly spoken invitation. The younger woman had spoken loudly enough for many people close by to hear and Petunia knew it would look very strange if she refused to sit with her nephew. Still, she hesitated, clearly torn between the desire to keep up appearances in front of a room full of strangers, and to hurry out and hope no-one would remember her if they ever saw her again. She could, of course change supermarkets. True, Tescoes was the most convenient to home but the next closest was only another couple of miles further away.

Dudley took the decision out of his mother's hands. Pulling his arm out of her grasp, he lumbered across to the booth where Erin and Harry sat. Erin's eyes widened when the obnoxious teen ignored his cousin and squeezed himself onto the bench seat next to her...a situation she had not envisioned. She shrunk against the wall, as far away from the leering boy as she could get.

Petunia had followed in her son's wake and was standing awkwardly at the end of the table, reluctant to seat herself so close to her nephew. Harry kept his eyes averted, concentrating with all his might on fingering a piece of skin that had hardened on the palm of his hand where a blister had broken.

Petunia cleared her throat. "Um...Dudley dear, we really are in rather a hurry." She cast a nasty look at Harry that he missed entirely but which Erin saw. "Unfortunately we wasted a lot of time waiting for Harry to get home." She raised her chin as she looked down at Erin, her expression gloating as her eyes said, ‘I can trump you and your machinations, you damn nuisance of a woman.' Erin raised her eyebrows at the blatant challenge.

"I'm hungry!" Dudley glared at his mother, making it quite clear that he had no intention of leaving any time soon. Petunia opened her mouth to cajole Dudley to leave with her, but the look on her son's face had her clamping her lips back together again before she slipped her skinny frame onto the bench that Harry occupied. She kept her legs to the side rather than slip them under the table, and she kept her bags on her lap.

"Diddy darling...' Petunia's tone was now placatory.

"I'll have two hamburgers with the lot and chips and a chocolate milkshake." Dudley had rudely cut his mother off and Erin's opinion of him being a highly unpleasant boy was reinforced one hundred fold. The grossly obese boy's small, pale blue eyes shifted from his mother's set face to the untouched chips and the remaining half of the toasted sandwich that were still sitting on the table in front of Harry.

"If you're not going to eat that..." and without waiting for Harry's permission, he dragged the plate and bowl towards himself. Erin watched wide eyed, and Harry dispassionately, as Dudley crammed his mouth full. Almost, Erin thought sadly, as if Harry was used to giving up a goodly portion of his food to his cousin.

Petunia watched her son with no trace of the distaste Erin felt as Dudley shovelled the food into his bulging maw. "Hurry up Mum," he ordered, spraying fragments of food across the table because his mouth was so full.

Petunia cast a strained smile at Dudley, then with her face back in its usual lines of discontent she placed her shopping bags on the floor under the table (ignoring the fact that there was plenty of room on the bench next to Harry), slipped the strap of her hand bag over her shoulder and went to line up at the self-serve counter. She had not bothered to ask Erin if she would like a re-fill of her coffee and of course, as Harry had expected, she had ignored him completely.

Erin and Harry were left watching Dudley prove beyond a shadow of a doubt what a total pig he was. When it came to food and eating, Dudley made no attempt to present himself with even the slightest degree of finesse, not even in front of a very attractive young woman. After all this time, Harry still found it incomprehensible that Aunt Petunia could be such a stickler for perfection with everything else but allowed her one and only son to display such appalling greed and barnyard manners.

Erin, making an effort to ignore the sickening display, half turned in her seat to face Dudley. Harry just watched him with the resigned air of someone who had seen it all before-many times.

"So Dudley..." Dudley's eyes swung towards Erin even as he stuffed a final fist full of cold, greasy chips into his mouth. "Why did you feel it necessary to lie to me about Harry?"

Harry's eyes snapped to Erin. Oh God, she was again heading into territory that was best left unexplored. He dipped his head towards her and widened his eyes desperately in an effort to communicate, but Erin steadfastly kept her gaze on the larger of the two cousins.

Dudley suddenly looked cornered and he stopped chewing; a bad decision as his mouth was packed to exploding and now he looked like a chipmunk hoarding nuts for the winter in his cheeks.

"Er...wha'd'ya mean?" At least that was what Harry thought his cousin said-it was hard to tell as the words were muffled by the mass of semi-masticated food in his mouth.

"I mean..." stressed Erin, ignoring Harry's silent signals "...you more or less intimated to me that Harry was a juvenile delinquent and that he attended a school called St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. That was a lie, wasn't it Dudley?"

Harry groaned and slammed his elbows on the table, cradling his messy-haired head between his forearms. Dudley shook his head stupidly and gulped as he swallowed the huge bolus of food.

"Erin..." pleaded Harry.

"Harry, it's all right. I'm not going to let him bad mouth you any more."

"Erin please..."

"‘I didn't lie!" growled Dudley.

"Dudley, I spoke to my parents on the phone last night. They told me that they had always found Harry to be very polite and extremely helpful. My father suffers from arthritis and one day Harry helped him to do some pruning in our garden as he was finding it difficult that particular day."

Dudley's face had suffused with ugly colour and he was now glaring between Erin and Harry.

"I also went to the trouble of looking up St Brutus' on the internet and guess what I found?" Dudley continued to glare, his small eyes narrowed into menacing slits.

"Nothing. There is no such place as St Brutus' Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. Now why would you try and belittle Harry like that I wonder?"

At that moment Dudley saw his mother returning with a tray of food and drinks. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now that he had re-enforcements, his focus returned to filling his large stomach and Petunia had barely put the tray down and slid her bony bottom onto the very edge of the bench seat again before Dudley was cramming a huge hamburger into his mouth. Harry thought he would be sick so he closed his eyes.

Dudley's small eyes, so unlike his cousin's large, vibrant green ones, shifted between the young woman on his left and his mother who was doing her best to ignore Erin and Harry and was sipping a cup of coffee with her pinkie stuck in the air. Spraying more food across the table when he spoke, Dudley said to his mother, "Harry's got her..."  he jerked his head rudely towards Erin, "...well and truly hoodwinked, Mum."

Petunia nearly choked but managed to return her cup to its saucer without mishap.

"What do you mean, Diddy?" she asked in a careful voice.

"He means, Mrs Dursley that he made a mistake by telling me that Harry went to a School for young delinquents. St Brutus". There is no such place. I looked it up on the internet. You see..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes flicked to Harry and she saw that he was now looking positively frantic...a bit like a cornered animal that knew it was on the point of being devoured by something much larger and much stronger than he was.

Oh God, what have I done? The last thing she had wanted to do was make more trouble for Harry.

Erin returned her gaze to Petunia. Dudley's beady eyes flicked between his mother and Erin and he looked positively smug now that he had dropped the cat amongst the pigeons.

Petunia's lips had disappeared again as she forced herself to look from her sadly resigned and nervous looking nephew and his new friend who was now looking a tad uncomfortable. Petunia was pleased to see this as it made her feel that the ground under her feet was a little more stable. Wrapping herself in righteous anger, she leaned towards Erin Hanson, for the moment forgetting the two young boys at the table with them.

"You listen to me," hissed Petunia. "You might think butter wouldn't melt in this boy's mouth..." She jerked her head in Harry's general direction. "Let me tell you Miss Hanson, you have no idea what he is capable of. We have only told people what they need to know for their own protection. Harry Potter is a menace to society."

Both Erin and Harry's mouths dropped open.

"You know that's crap, Aunt Petunia," hissed Harry softly.

"You horrible, horrible woman," bit out Erin, a little more loudly. Several people close by turned to look. She scooted closer to Dudley (not that she had much room to manoeuvre as Dudley took up three quarters of the bench) and leaned across the table so that she was closer to Petunia. "How can you talk about your nephew like that? Do you hate him so much? He's just a young boy, the same age as your son, I imagine. Your affections can't stretch to encompass two children, Mrs Dursley?"

"If he was related to you, you would feel the same way we do, I assure you. You might think you know him but believe you me, you don't. How could you after only a few hours acquaintance." Petunia was in the process of gathering her bags together. Dudley could see that his mother had been pushed about as far as she was willing to go and that if he didn't want to walk home, he would have to leave with her whether he was finished his meal or not. He began shovelling the rest of his food down his gullet.

"I might have only just met Harry, Mrs Dursley but I assure you, I know exactly what kind of a boy he is. I know children and if I had to pick which one of these boys was the delinquent then I would have to pick your son."

Petunia gasped and shot to her feet. Erin continued, ignoring Dudley whose over-full mouth was hanging open again. "Harry is quiet, self effacing and polite whereas Dudley is brash, sneaky and snide. Also, Harry has not said one ill word to me about any of you, and Dudley has not missed one opportunity to belittle his cousin to me. That is more telling than anything else, I assure you."

Petunia threw the dirtiest look she could muster at one of the few people she had ever had to convince of Harry's unsuitability to mix with decent, normal people. And to actually infer that her darling Diddy was anything but perfect...well, the woman was just plain deluded. Probably as a result of Harry having put some kind of spell on her, no doubt.

Petunia took hold of Dudley's arm and virtually dragged him from the booth. He only just managed to grab hold of his milkshake before his mother pulled him out of the restaurant.

Erin took a deep breath and looked at Harry who had deflated to a miserable bundle on the other side of the booth. He raised his green eyes and she saw that they were heavily shadowed. His lips quirked into a semblance of a smile.

"I really appreciate your faith in me Erin but my aunt is not a happy woman at the moment and that will translate into my uncle being far from happy this evening."

Erin grinned sheepishly as she slid out of the booth. Harry followed suit and Erin threaded her arm through the messy-haired teen's as she led him towards the supermarket to do the grocery shopping she had originally come out to do.

"Don't worry so much Harry. They know you have a champion in me. They won't bother you, knowing that I am right next door."

"You don't know my uncle," mumbled Harry.

Erin grabbed a trolley and as Harry followed her around the supermarket, she questioned him closely.

"Why are they so unpleasant Harry? I know they don't really believe you to be a delinquent otherwise they would not let you out and about by yourself."

"Well, they didn't ask to be lumbered with me. I...I was orphaned and the authorities brought me to Aunt Petunia because she was my mother's only living relative...her sister. She took me in I suppose because she couldn't bear to think what people would say about her if they found out that she had let me go to an orphanage."

"Oh, Harry." Demonstrative as ever, Erin placed her hands on either side of Harry's face and pulled his head down to plant a kiss on his forehead. The kiss landed directly on his scar which she noticed for the first time. She ran her finger along the jagged blemish which at the moment was still quite inflamed, even though it had been two weeks since Voldemort had possessed him in the foyer of the Ministry.

Harry reflexively jerked his head away. Erin's brow creased in question. "Did I hurt you? How did you get that scar, Harry?"

Harry fell back on the old lie. "I got it in the car accident that killed my parents. Sorry. For some reason or other it still hurts every now and then." At Erin's appalled look, Harry cringed.

"The...the doctors can't explain why," he rushed to add.

"Oh Harry. You've not had the happiest of childhoods have you?"

"I've survived," said Harry uncomfortably.

"Survival is one thing, Harry. Contentment is entirely another."

Harry marched ahead indicating that the conversation was at an end. Erin for once let discretion reign and she finished the grocery shopping speaking of nothing more than why she preferred one brand to another and getting Harry to reach for the items on the higher shelves for her.