I stiffened when his breathing changed.
"He left his wand on the coach," he started. I haven't admitted this many times in my life but I was confused. Did Harry get a concussion when we jumped out the window? He sat up in his bunk.
"I, I saw it, Hermione," he sputtered breathing heavily. He had a vision then. I was tempted to yell at him then, You let him in again, Harry? But suddenly fear overtook me. Was it Ron? Fred? George? Were they dead? Was it someone at Hogwarts? Dean? Seamus? Neville? Did you-know-who kill someone else? Someone that would make Harry a mess? It wasn't Ginny, he said 'he left his wand'. Then who? God, please don't be Ron.
"What is it, Harry? What did you see?" Maybe he's still rattled from the snake. Please be rattle by the snake.
 "I was in his head, and it was a memory, of, of," he took a shuddering breath, almost hyperventilating. Out with it! What happened?
"The night my parents died," he said finding his voice. Oh god, Harry. "And, and I saw them. And me. And it was Halloween. I saw them through the front window first. My dad was holding me, he put his wand down to pick me up. Then my mum came in. They took me upstairs, to bed. He left his wand on the coach. He killed my dad first. I've heard that before, from the dementors, but to see it," he paused here and I only just remembered to breathe.
"Then he went into my room. My mother pleading for me before he killed her too. Then he tried the kill me," Harry stopped after that. The forest outside made only the smallest sounds outside, not nearly enough to compensate for the crushing weight in the tent.
"Oh, Harry," I mutter softly, almost instinctually. He tilts his head down an inch and sniffles.
"I don't know what to do Hermione," he says after another unsteady breath. "I didn't want to know that. I didn't want to see that." There's nothing else to say. I see him reach for something but pill back suddenly. The Marauders Map. I don't think he knows I realized but he's obviously been looking for Ginny. She's at the Burrow now though. It's Christmas. I climb up to his bunk to look at his face. He is barely holding back the tears when I pull his head to my shoulder. We don't even meet before his shoulders start rocking. He's sobbing now and I do the only thing I can. Be there while he lets it out. It's just Harry's luck that this would happen, at Christmas of all times. And so he cries. Because really I'm surprised he doesn't cry more. He's just as human as the rest of us.
"We're ok right now," I say. It's the only words of comfort I can find.