Keep on keeping on

Hermione, Ron and Neville continued to chatter away for the rest of the train ride whilst Harry carried on staring out of the window as the Scottish Highlands rolled past. It was dark outside now but Harry could see the bright stars in the clear sky. He remembered when he would be outside gardening in Privet Drive and, when the light would begin to fade, Harry would lie on his back for a moment and stare up. You couldn’t see the stars from Surrey – only the pitch black sky and the clouds that covered any light that tried to break through. But up here, at the top of the country, there was no light pollution, not steaming chimneys or sounds of cars trundling down the road. There was silence, save for the rhythmic chugging of the train. Harry loved it. For once, his brain wasn’t going a mile a minute. For once, he wasn’t worrying where the next punch was coming from. For once, Harry was able to breathe.

“We should get changed. We should be nearly there.” Hermione advised, breaking Harry from his trance. She had been watching students walk past the carriage, most now wearing the black Hogwarts robes. Ron and Neville nodded in agreement and started to extract their robes from their trunks. Harry reached for his trunk too but hesitated. He remembered the bruises that littered his chest and his stomach and the thin scars that criss-crossed his back. Harry bundled his robes into arms and tapped Hermione on the arm.
“Are you okay, Harry?” She asked quietly. She also had her robes in her hands and was looking at Harry, eyebrows scrunched together. Harry looked at her imploringly, trying to communicate that he wanted to change in the bathroom. Hermione wasn’t sure what Harry was trying to ask but she had an idea. She had been observing Harry throughout the train ride and the boy seemed so scared. He flinched at sudden movements and didn’t speak a word. Hermione didn’t want to believe that her theory was right but if it was, her heart broke for the boy.
“I’m going to change in the bathroom boys – no way I’m changing in front of you!” She announced to the carriage, laughing. “Harry, do you want to join? You can change in the boy’s toilets.” Harry nodded in response, smiling. He was glad that Hermione had understood him.
“Harry’s a boy. He can change in here, can’t he?” Ron said, accusingly.
“He doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to, Ronald.” Hermione scoffed. She stalked out of the carriage and Harry followed closely behind.

Harry and Hermione entered the toilets together, realising that they were unisex. Entering the cubicle, Harry locked the door with shaking hands. He realised that he would encounter this same problem when he reached Hogwarts. Shared dorms were going to be a problem. But right now, Harry focused on getting changed. Stripping his clothes off, Harry grimaced at the array of purple bruised that covered his chest and stomach - huge fist shaped bruises. But the worst was the large boot print that covered his entire right side. Harry graced his finger over the bruise, wincing at the pain that radiated up his ribs. He stifled a groan as he pulled his shirt on. Harry knew no ribs were broken but the pain was excruciating. With every move he made, the broken boy had been containing his groans all day. Ignoring the pain now, Harry pulled on the rest of clothes and put his robe over the top. Luckily his clothes hadn’t been too ruined by Uncle Vernon’s rampage a month ago; all Harry had to do was dust of a muddy boot print from his black robes. Now dressed, Harry opened the cubicle door open and was met with Hermione’s worried face, waiting for him.

“Are you ok, Harry?” Hermione asked again. Harry just nodded and stared into the mirror. Hermione opened her mouth but closed it again.
“It’s just- It’s just I know I haven’t known you that long but I’m worried about you.” Hermione rushed, stumbling over her words. Harry shrugged.
“Can you talk to me? Anything?” Harry sighed and shook his head. He could feel his tears threatening to fall from his eyes and he wiped at them furiously, refusing to cry in front of the girl. He sniffed.
“Here. Use this and try and explain.” Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out a small notebook and pen, handing it to Harry. He grabbed it hesitantly and held it in his shaking hands. Hermione grasped Harry’s hands, steadying them. Although Harry flinched slightly, it was not as strong as it usually was. For some reason, Harry felt safe with the girl.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. Ignore Ron. He’s ignorant. Just because you can’t speak doesn’t mean you don’t have anything to say.” Hermione whispered, softly. Harry grinned and began to write.
[I want to speak.]
“You do? Why don’t you then?” Hermione asked, reading Harry’s writing and looking up at him.
[I don’t know. I just stopped one day and now I can’t anymore.] Harry wrote slowly. Hermione read his words again. Harry watched her eyes flick over his words a few times before she looked up at him again.
“Oh Harry. What made you stop speaking?” Her eyes were full of worry and Harry could see tears teetering on the edge. Harry shook his head, not sure how to answer. He handed the notepad and pen back to the girl but Hermione pushed it away.
“Keep it. You need it more than I do. Now we can have conversations!” She said, brightly. Harry smiled and the pair left the bathroom to return to the boys.

“You’re back! Harry speak yet?” Ron asked mockingly, looking at Hermione. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Stop being a prat, Ronald. Harry has talked to me, yes.” She replied, gesturing to the pad in Harry’s hands. Ron laughed.
“You mean he wrote to you? God, what a freak.” He spat. Harry froze. His hands shook and he began to tremble from head to toe. Freak. Freak. Freak. Harry turned and ran from the carriage. Hermione glared and Ron and followed after Harry.

Harry ran to the toilets and locked himself in the cubicle he was in not ten minutes earlier. He collapsed against the door. His breath was coming thick and fast and Harry could feel the pain in his chest restricting his breathing. His hands were shaking, his vision went dark and the ringing was so loud in his ears that Harry couldn’t think straight. He began tugging on his fingers again, keeping his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Harry heard a frantic knocking on the door. Harry cried out and put his hands over his face. He was terrified. Uncle Vernon was out there. He knew it. He’d come for Harry.
“Harry! Harry it’s Hermione. It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

Hermione could hear Harry hyperventilating inside the cubicle. She tried to push on the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Harry must be side against it, Hermione thought. Her anxiety was rising. Ron had triggered Harry and sent him flying off in a panic and Hermione was worried about him.
“Harry it’s ok. You can come out. It’s just me out here.” She said calmly. All of a sudden, Hermione could hear a banging coming from inside the cubicle and the door began to shake.

Harry heard Hermione’s voice but it wasn’t enough to break him from his blinding panic. Pulling at his fingers wasn’t working. Harry couldn’t calm himself. He banged his head against the door and that began to clear the ringing in his ears. So, he did it again. And again. Until the ringing in his ears was replaced by a headache that pounded behind his eyes. The pain of the headache stopped the ringing and began to clear his vision as he had something else to focus on. The pain in his chest loosened as his breathing returned to normal. This was a pain he had control over, not the uncontrollable pain that was caused by his panic attacks. Harry kept hitting his head and continued to pull at his fingers until finally, he was aware of his surroundings.

Hermione was frantically banging on the shaking door, realising what Harry was doing inside it.
“Harry! Stop! Please!” Hermione cried through streaming tears. The banging seemed to go one forever and Hermione was only getting more hysterical. Eventually the banging stopped and Hermione couldn’t hear anything.
“Harry. Are you okay? Can you come out?” The girl asked hesitantly. The silence was deafening until the sharp click of a lock turning echoed. Hermione gasped and stood up, scrambling away from the opening door. Harry stepped out, face ashen and streaked with tears. He was panting and tugging at his fingers still. Hermione hesitated before holding her hand out for Harry to take. Harry eyed the hand warily but didn’t take it. He leaned against the door frame before walking shakily over the sinks. He ran his hands under the cold water, trying to ground himself. Hermione stood uncomfortably behind him, her eyes scanning him up and down.
“Harry. Harry. What can I do for you?” Hermione whispered, stepping forward. Harry watched her come closer to him and he raised his trembling hand, shaking his head.
“Okay, okay. I can see you need your space. I won’t touch you. Not unless you don’t want me to. But can you tell me what happened?” She held up her hands placatingly. Harry shook his head again but began patting his pockets for the notepad Hermione had given him.
“You dropped it.” Hermione said, simply. She handed the notebook to Harry who took it from her, nodding gratefully. He stepped back and leant against the wall, sliding down it. Tears began falling again so Hermione moved closer to him – still not touching him though. Harry began to write, preparing himself to finally tell someone the truth. He trusted Hermione and her behaviour showed she cared.
[I live with my Uncle and Aunt. They aren’t very nice to me. Call me a freak. I guess I just was upset at what Ron said.]
Hermione nodded sadly.
“I’m sorry about Ron and your family. You don’t deserve it. You are not a freak. I promise.” She whispered, sincerely. Harry looked away, not believing what she said. Hermione knew Harry didn’t believe her, but she didn’t know what else to say. Instead she slid her hand slowly toward him. She made sure not to touch him but waited for Harry to return the contact. A few minutes passed in silence until Hermione felt a hand touch hers. She looked up at Harry and smiled.
“Come on. Let’s grab our stuff and get off the train.”