Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Harry ran as fast as his 9-year-old legs could carry him as he bolted away from Marge's violent bulldog, Ripper, and through an opening that was wide enough for him to wiggle through and small enough to keep the bulldog from following him as he continued to sprint, not caring where his legs take him as long as it is away from that vicious monster dog.

After running for what seemed like forever, he stopped to catch his breath as he placed his hands on his knees, feeling sweat from exertion and fear drip down his face. Looking up to see where he was, he found himself in a playground that wasn't that far from Privet Drive.

'I ran 3 blocks nonstop?' Harry thought incredulously to himself as he trudged over to the swing set and sat himself down in one of them and hung his head sighing. 'It's not fair. What have I ever done? What did I do to deserve this? I'm a person...a human being.' He thought to himself as sadness and loneliness gripped his heart. He could never understand why his relatives treat him cruelly; he has always been good, always trying to please them and be happy with them. But they will always see him as nothing but a burden...a slave.

Harry took shuddering breaths and wrapped the oversized shirt he was wearing tighter around his person to fight off the cold breeze as he kept staring at the ground near his feet.

A shadow appears in his vision, lifting his head up slowly, his eyes met with black shoes, following dark blue jeans, black overcoat with what looked like a purple vest underneath and over a red and white plaid shirt, and a grey scarf with red stripes until his eyes met hazel colored hues.

It was another boy around his age, maybe a little older, his brown hair moving slightly in the breeze, holding an old looking book titled, 'Once Upon a Time'. This boy just stared at him with concern and curiosity, "Are you okay?" he asked.

Harry almost didn't respond, "Yeah, just cold."

"I mean the tears." The boy said fishing a tissue from his coat pocket and handing it to him.

Harry touched his cheek to feel that it was wet and realized that he was right, he is crying. Harry took the tissue that was offered to him and wiped his cheeks, sniffling as he did as he tried to reign in his emotions.

The boy moved to the swing that was beside Harry, placed the book in his lap and swung back and forth a little as he stared at the crying boy next to me, "Do you wanna talk about it?"

Harry turned to the strange boy next to him, confused as to why he would want to know, they just met, "I don't think I should."

The boy sighed, "They say it's better to let your emotions out to a complete stranger rather than keeping it all bottled up inside. It's much healthier to let it out," he then unwrapped his scarf from his neck and folded it into a ball then handed it to Harry who looked at the scarf, then at the boy with a questioning look, "and screaming it out." the boy finished.

Harry pointed at the balled up scarf as he looked at the boy who nodded and made a go ahead gesture, "Yeah."

Harry shrugged before staring at the scarf for a brief moment then took a deep breath and shoved his face into the scarf, "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screamed into the scarf and stomped his feet into the ground to let all the pent up rage and anger out of his system.

Removing the scarf from his face he took a deep breath to calm himself, "Thank you." he said as he handed the scarf back.

"Hmm." the boy nodded, "Feel a little better?" he asked as he unraveled the scarf and wrapped it around his neck again while keeping his eyes on Harry.

Harry let out a breath, "A little." He took a deep breath and began to vent to this stranger, "I'm just so sick of it. I never did anything to them, yet they treat me as though I'm a freak when I never did anything wrong to them. They may be my relatives, yet they see me as nothing more than a dead body that they stuck underneath the stairs, it is VERY uncomfortable, cramped and lonely in that cupboard. What's worse, is that my chubby cousin uses me as a punching bag and my aunt and uncle don't do anything to stop him. In fact, they encourage him. If you think they're worse, my uncle's sister is just plain evil, especially her monster dog. She gave my cousin a computerized robot, but for me, she gives me dog biscuits." He took deep breaths to try and calm himself, but failed, "They treat me worse than a dog, they see me as a waste of space. Nothing worth keeping around." Harry was full out crying now, he couldn't keep a hold of his out stretched emotions inside of him.

"Then why are you still living with them?" A low, yet feminine voice filled the playground.

Harry and the boy looked up to see a beautiful tall blonde woman leaning against a slide with her arms crossed, staring at them with a stoic expression.

The boy next to Harry was shocked, "M-Mom, how long have you been standing there?" he asked, caught unaware of his Mother's presence until just now.

The beautiful Mom shrugged, "Since this boy screamed into your scarf." She pushed off the side of the slide, her white long coat, which hugged her womanly curves, flowed in the wind & around her, making her look ethereal, "When you didn't come back with the book you've forgotten, I got worried." she said as she walked to lean against the stands that hold the swing set together.

Harry continued to stare at this seemingly angelic being, "Are you an angel?" Harry asked without thinking as tears slid down his face.

The woman smiled comfortingly down at the downtrodden child then, almost with grace, kneeled down to his level and fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped the tears from his face with Motherly care and experience she got over the years when raising her only son by herself.

"I'm just as human as you are, my boy." she said as she continued to wipe Harry's face. She turned to her son and put on a fake-stern face, "Have you introduced yourselves to each other?"

Her son went red with embarrassment, "Sorry Mom."

"Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to him." She said, nodding to Harry.

The boy smiled at Harry, "My names Henry."

Harry sniffled, "Harry Potter."

The Mother smiled, "And you may call me Emma Swan." Harry's tears may have dried, but he was still hiccuping from his emotions as Emma rubbed his back in a soothing manner, "Easy there, breathe in, breathe out, my boy." she instructed as she took breaths with him.

Finally, he calmed down, he felt relieved that he finally let out his feeling and thoughts to someone who wanted to listen. "Feel better?" Emma asked.

Harry was about to answer, but his stomach let off a loud growling sound. He went red in the face, wanting to hide back in his little cupboard.

Emma let out a small laugh and swiftly stood up, "Come on." she held her hands out to the boys, which Henry took eagerly, ever always enjoying his Mother's company as he waited for Harry to take his Mother's other hand.

For a moment, Harry only stared at this woman's hand, then back up at Emma who looked at him with care. Smiling weakly, he placed his hand in Emma's and felt a pleasant, comforting shock fill him when his hand touched Emma's. Looking up, he saw Emma & Henry smiling brightly at him as they made their way toward Emma's rental car, Harry on Emma's left and Henry on her right.

Holding Emma's hand felt nice, in fact, it made him very happy. No one wanted to touch him, especially his Aunt Petunia when he wanted, no, needed the same Motherly affection she always gave to Dudley. But with Emma, he made him feel whole, despite just meeting her & her son, they made him feel wanted.