Talk To Me

by facelesswriting

While finishing their education, the 8th years are picking up the pieces of their lives, but Harry's world is still crashing down around his ears. As he spirals apart, even the most unlikely people are banding together to keep him sane, but will he ever recover? And will he ever find his voice again? (TW for self-harm, panic attacks, and depression)

3. Chapter 3

3- Hermione POV

Weeks into the term, Malfoy and I had developed a sort of truce. He understood that just because he was no longer making the same poor choices didn't mean he didn't have apologies to make for the past, and I understood that it wasn't my job to knock him down to size every chance I could. He was trying after all.

It was a day that Malfoy didn't have Quidditch so it was supposed to be his day to have guests - as the sitting room got a bit crowded if we both had people over at the same time - but Harry had come over with a Potions essay, and I just couldn't say no to him.

Pansy had come over and was upset, shooting glares across the room to us every minute or so, but Harry was doing a good job of pretending he couldn't see her, even as I could feel his mind wince every time she did it.

I was searching desperately to find something to compliment him on before I moved into what needed work as he'd done the whole essay on his own for once, but it was simply a disaster. He'd been hopeful when he knocked on the door, but my expression must have given something away because his face had already fallen by the time I looked up.

He pushed a hopeful questioning feeling into my mind, but I shook my head, "I'm sorry, Harry this just doesn't make any sense."

He hadn't spoken in a few days - even when called on in class - and he'd had a nightmare last night so I knew he was feeling fragile, but when his eyes filled with tears, even I was surprised.

He sniffed, leading to Pansy glaring petulantly at him. He tried to cover his face with his hands, wiping his eyes futilely, and she rolled her eyes and looked away.

"Harry-" I tried, but he was already getting up, waving his hand at me to stay. The gesture was clear even without any picture in my head as he went into my bedroom and shut the door.

I sighed, rubbing my own eyes from tiredness before I got up and made two mugs of tea in our little kitchenette. I knocked on my door and took them in to him. Right before the latch clicked, I thought I heard Malfoy's voice whisper, "Pans, don't. He's struggling."