***Once again, thank you so much for the great reviews! I've been trying to reply to each one of them, so please check the review page if you've left one. I'm also glad to see that some of my readers from "The Fear Within" are giving this one a chance also. Thank you again for reading and as always, please review!!!
The car ride home from Platform 9 3/4 was horrible. My Dad ranted and raved the whole way home about how careless and
stupid I was. It seemed that Professor Dumbledore had informed my parents of my little adventure with the boys at the
end of term, thinking they would be proud of me for my heroism. My Father saw it as anything but heroic. Unfortunately,
it didn't take us long to get home, and he dragged me into the house that afternoon and beat me worse than he ever
had before. It was so bad that I didn't get out of bed for three days.
My Mum would come in crying, asking why I had to act so bad all the time and why couldn't I just be good and make my Dad happy? She made me so sick; I could only pray I didn't end up as weak as she was when I was older. The only bright spot during that time was when Hedwig, Harry's pet owl, came flying into my room the second night I was home. He had written to me, asking how my summer was going so far and if I was ok. He had noticed the way my Dad had acted on the Platform and he actually sounded concerned about me. I smiled a little when I thought of him actually taking the time to worry about me. He wrote about his Aunt and Uncle, who sounded totally barbaric and his overweight bully of a cousin who liked to beat up on him.
I tried to write him back, but my right arm was pretty bruised up and sore, so my handwriting was atrocious. I did the best I could, telling him that I was fine and that my Dad was angry because of our little adventure. I wrote how I thought his cousin sounded horrible and his Aunt and Uncle didn't seem like very nice people. I reminded him to do his summer homework and asked him to please write again soon. I didn't write anything that could have tipped him off to my current condition because I didn't want to worry him. I would just wait and hope he would write me back soon. I rolled up the message and tied it to Hedwig's leg the best I could. "I'm sorry girl" I had said to the snowy owl "I would give you a treat but I really can't get up right now." If it was possible, I swore she had a look of pity in her large eyes. She hooted softly and gently nipped my finger, then took off back out the window to go back to Harry. I watched her fly away and wished I was a bird too; that way I could fly away from here, away from this terrible pain and my horrible Father.
I was surprised to see Hedwig come back so quickly that night. I had sent her off with a letter to Hermione to see how she was doing. I had been worried about her ever since I saw her Dad shove her into the backseat of their car the day before. When Hedwig landed on the bed next to me, she just stood there looking at me for a moment. I could have sworn I saw sadness in her large eyes as she slowly stuck her leg out for me to take the letter. Confused by her behavior, I unrolled the letter and had to check the name at the bottom to make sure it was really from Hermione.
The writing looked like chicken scratch; Hermione's writing was usually so smooth and elegant that it shocked me to see her writing like this. I read it and noticed how formal it seemed, like she was afraid to write anything personal. I noticed that Hedwig still sat next to me on the bed, watching me as if she were waiting for me to do something. "Is there something wrong with Hermione girl?" I asked her, not really expecting an answer, just voicing my thoughts. She hooted and bobbed her head, almost as if nodding her head 'yes' and then flew back to her cage for a drink of water. Surprised by her actions, I sat there wondering what had happened to my friend that had upset my owl. I tried to think of something I could do; maybe I could have someone check on her and then I berated myself for not getting her phone number. The Dursley's usually didn't let me use the phone, but I could have snuck down while they were gone during the day to call her and talk to her at least.
As I lay back on my bed, thinking of what I could do to help her, I hissed in pain as my back burned at the contact. My Uncle didn't like how I had made breakfast this morning and had used his belt on me. The stupid wanker had gotten my back twice, leaving red, raw gashes across it that hurt pretty bad. I rolled onto my side and started drifting off to sleep when the pain subsided, all the while thinking about Hermione and what I could do to help her.
The summer dragged on as my Dad forced me to do chores around the house all day and then study my lessons at night. He was making me do the same course work his students had to do in their second year of college studies. He had left me alone for a while but then one day he returned home from work and was in a right state. I don't know what had happened to set him off, but first he went after Mum and then came after me. I guess he was starting to tire out by the time he started in on me, because I only ended up with bruises on my wrists in the shape of his hands and a slight cut by my left eye.
When he was through with his temper tantrum, he had left muttering something about getting pissed and slammed out of our house. I spent the night attending to my Mum who had two black eyes and a bloody nose. When she had finally fallen asleep, I went to my room and lay on my bed, crying so hard that I could hardly breathe. I had no idea what I had done to deserve this; I worked my butt off in school and I was always a good girl, but it was never enough for my Dad. I jerked my head up as I heard a noise, scared that my Dad had returned to do more damage, only to see Hedwig sitting on my nightstand.
"Hi girl" I said, my voice scratchy from crying so hard. "Do you have a letter for me?" she stuck her foot out and I gently took it off of her leg. Reaching over to a small bowl on the stand, I got two treats for her and then sat up to read my letter from Harry. It was pretty much the same stuff; his relatives were horrible to him, they made him work as much as my Dad made me and he wanted to go back to Hogwarts as badly as I did.
As I was reading his letter, something in me just snapped. I grabbed a piece of parchment and started to hurriedly write, putting on to paper everything that had happened to me that day. Tears were streaming down my face as I wrote what had happened to my Mum and what my Dad had done to me. I put my phone number on the bottom of the paper and told Harry that if I didn't answer one of his letters to call me. I then did something I never thought I would; I begged Harry not to tell anyone else what I had told him and asked him to please keep that letter in case something ever happened to me. I think somewhere in the back of my mind I had convinced myself that my Father would one day go too far and kill me. I signed the letter with love and rolled it up, attaching it to Hedwig's leg. She nipped my finger affectionately and flew off once more, becoming a small white dot on the horizon.
Hedwig returned to my room late that night, nipping at my ear to wake me up. I turned on the light on my nightstand and put my glasses on, wondering why Hedwig woke me for a letter. As I took it off of her leg and unrolled it, I saw Hermione's neat writing along with drops of water on the parchment. I started to read and when I hit the second sentence, I almost stopped breathing. Hermione had finally decided to open up to me about her home life, and it sounded even worse than mine. I read through the entire thing and when I got to the bottom, she had written that she didn't want me to tell anyone and to save the letter in case anything happened to her. What the hell did she mean by that? Maybe things were worse than what she had written in the letter, if that was possible. She had signed the letter 'with love' and thankfully she had given me her phone number.
Walking quietly down the stairs, I made my way to the telephone and dialed the number she had given me. I listened as her phone rang twice, and then a quiet female voice said "hello?"
"Hermione?" I whispered, praying my Aunt or Uncle didn't hear me.
"Harry?" she asked, whispering also.
"Yes, it's me" I said "are you ok?"
It was quiet on her end for a moment and then she said "I guess so; it's good to hear your voice."
"You too" I replied "I was worried about you after I got your letter. Are you sure you don't want me to let Dumbledore know what's going on?"
"NO! no!" she said, yelling the first no she had said, and then quickly calmed herself. "It will only make things worse for me Harry."
"Ok, ok I'm sorry I upset you. I'll give you my Aunt's phone number and if you ever need to get a hold of me for any reason, you make sure you call me ok?" I asked her, worrying about her more and more every minute.
"Thanks Harry" she said "I had better go; I don't know when my Dad will be home."
"Alright Hermione. Be careful, and remember to call me if you need anything." When she had quietly agreed, we said our goodbyes and I quietly put the receiver back in the cradle. Making my way back up to my room, I lay face down on my bed, feeling completely worthless as a friend.
Somehow I made it through the rest of the summer; Harry and I would call and write each other as much as we possibly could without getting in trouble. My Dad continued to hit me once in a while, but nothing too bad lately. I got my Hogwarts letter for my second year and my Dad took me to Diagon Alley to get my stuff. I had seen Ron in Flourish and Blotts; I waved at him, but when my Dad saw what I did, he quickly paid for my books and pushed me out the door. When we got home, he made sure that I knew not to draw attention to myself when we went shopping.
The morning I was to board the Hogwarts Express again finally arrived, and it seemed like time crawled by. Finally I was sitting in a compartment, hoping that Ron and Harry would come to sit with me. Harry soon walked in and sat in the seat across from me, just like last year. He smiled at me and I could see the haunted look in his eyes; I bet my eyes held the same look.
"Has everything been going ok for you?" I asked while getting up to close the compartment door. Harry didn't answer and when I turned around to go back to my seat, he was standing right behind me. Jumping back a little in surprise, I watched as he yanked up the sleeve of his t-shirt and showed me a huge purple bruise on his upper arm. "Oh Harry, what happened?" I asked, gently reaching out to touch it. When I had barely made contact with his skin, he winced. Looking at him strangely, I ran my fingers over the width of the bruise and could feel a large bump under the skin. "What the hell did your Uncle do?"
"It wasn't my Uncle" Harry said quietly "it was one of Dudley's friends. He had taken his brother's ring to wear and when he punched me in the arm he used the hand the ring was on."
I pulled my hand back from his arm, placed a kiss on my fingertips and placed it back on the bruise. "I know it won't make it go away, but my Mum always kissed my cuts and bruises when I was little and it always seemed to help me feel better; I think it was more mental than physical." A small smile spread across his face as he stared at his arm where my hand still lay. "Why do they treat us like punching bags?" I asked, hating the tears that were forming in my eyes.
Harry went to move and then stopped. When I looked at him, he looked like he had wanted to give me a hug but had stopped himself. I nodded my head slightly and he wrapped his arms gently around me, in case there were any new bruises. It had never felt so good to be wrapped in someone's arms before. I didn't get many hugs anymore, and most of them were pity hugs from my Mum. Just as I had laid my head on his shoulder, the compartment door flew open and in walked Ron. Harry and I jumped apart quickly, causing both of us to wince in pain thanks to our injuries.
"What's going on in here?" Ron asked suspiciously.
"Nothing Ron" Harry had said, looking at me to let me know it was anything but. "Just a hello hug between friends."
"Well where's mine?" he asked, turning towards me with his arms wide open. I walked over to him slowly and gave him a hug. He had squeezed a little too hard and I had cried out, unable to stop myself. "Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked as he pulled away from me at my outburst.
"Nothing, I'm sorry. I think I may have bruised a rib when I fell off of my bike a couple of days ago" I lied, hating how good I was getting at it. I noticed Harry out of the corner of my eye; he looked like he wanted to comfort me but knew he couldn't with Ron here. I gave him a small smile to let him know I was ok and made my way back to my seat.
The three of us talked about everything we did over the summer for the rest of the trip. Mainly it was Ron telling us everything he had done while Harry and I listened. Ron had brought up the incident in Flourish and Blotts, asking why my Dad had dragged me out of the store. I had forgotten to mention that to Harry, and giving him a look to let him know I'd tell him later, I turned to Ron and told him my Dad had suddenly remembered he had an appointment he had to get to. Thankfully, he seemed to buy my story and continued on with the details of his summer.
We pulled into the Hogsmead station and piled out with the rest of the students. Harry and I were crushed together in the throng and he looked down at me, grabbing my hand and smiling. I could feel my face become warm as we continued off of the train hand in hand. Just as we stepped onto the platform, Harry let go of my hand and continued to walk next to me as we made our way to the carriages. Riding up to the castle, I sat watching him while he talked to Ron, wondering what to make of the strange feeling I felt every time I looked at him. The one thing I did know was that I was starting to feel real emotions again, and it was all thanks to Harry.
As we walked up to the castle and into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast, I sat thinking about how I hoped this year might actually be a good year for a change. At least I was far away from my Father again and wouldn't have to see him for three months, when I would go home for Christmas. I should have never allowed that hope to blossom, because that year became very bad, very quickly.