Hide; I Promise to Find You

Tea with Hagrid a couple days later was fine. Harry had gone with Ron, as he was still avoiding Hermione, and Neville by proximity, but his friend had taken one look at Fang, Hagrid’s overly excited dog, and turned around to run back the way they came. Harry barely managed not to follow after him by keeping his feet firmly rooted in the ground as he watched Hagrid get him under control.

Hedwig had, of course, come along, riding on Harry’s arm, and Hagrid was delighted. “I didn’t have much time to look ‘er over when I gave her your letter.”

If Hedwig could roll her eyes at Hagrid, she absolutely would. Instead, she huffed. If the big man had spoken to her for so long before her boy’s potions class, she would have been able to meet him like usually before it started and then Hedwig would have never let the time get away from her and fail to find her boy for the second time in less than half a day, and he might have never felt the need to hide in the Forbidden Forest. If she had her way, her boy would never be going past that treeline again. The air got incredibly jumpy if you went too far in; Hedwig had found that out the very first week, when she explored the grounds.

Hedwig begrudgingly let the big man check her over and stroke her breast for a while, but when Fang got up to walk toward Harry, she left the arm of Hagrid’s couch to perch on the table next to the chair her boy had chosen to sit. She fluffed the feathers on her wings up, which she raised above her head, and hissed at the approaching dog before Harry started shaking enough to catch the wooden house around them on fire.

The particular fear of his had caused him to set someone’s trash can alight before, when a stray dog surprised him in an alley while Hedwig was gone looking for food, and she’d been extra careful to keep him away from canines since. She may have a prick of pride in her chest for his refusal to back down from Fang earlier, but she knew if it weren’t for her boy not wanting to let down Hagrid it probably would have already happened again.

“Oops,” Hagrid said. “Fang! I said back!”

Hedwig kept her eyes on the dog throughout the remainder of their visit. She fluffed up any time the canine made a move, though mostly to let Harry, who had not taken his hand off of her since she had joined him at his seat, know that she was looking out for him. Otherwise, she was happy to listen to her boy laugh at Hagrid’s stories and ask questions about whatever creature the big man squeezed in as a reference to whichever one he was telling at the time.

“I wish Hermione would just be happy I’m alright like Ron and Neville were.” Harry eventually whispered to Hagrid, when the topic of his school friends had come up. “She’s still calling me Hadrian every time she sees me.” Harry didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but every time he heard that name, his bottom lip would jut out and his gut would swirl.

“Do ya not like it?” Hagrid asked him. Harry made a confirming noise. “Then you should tell ‘er so. Hidin’ from ‘er won’ do you much good.” Harry shrugged.

He wasn’t ready to face her lecture. 

``````

The next night, the house elves kicked him out of the kitchen, where Harry had been hiding for his meals so there wouldn’t be a repeat attempt at confrontation by Hermione, and he had no choice. 

He’d eaten without human company for seven meals, as Professor Snape required the Slytherins to eat in the Great Hall for every meal, and liked to pay special attention to Ron’s attendance. So though Ron knew where the kitchens were– all the Slytherins did even if most never dared to enter house elf territory, living in the dungeons with the Hufflepuffs and seeing them enter and exit them all the time– he hadn’t been able to sneak away with Harry.

Hermione and Neville, for one had not been shown where the kitchens were yet, and secondly refused to eat at any table but their own, had obviously not shown up either.

Harry knew Hedwig would go to get him something to eat if he didn’t go in for dinner himself, but now that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat in the kitchens more than once a day now, he remembered he’d missed yesterday’s weekly lunch at the Gryffindor table yesterday, and his gut curled.

Since Hermione and Neville didn’t like eating at other tables, Ron couldn’t do so very often without Snape making a scene about it anyway, and Harry and Hedwig didn’t appreciate how loud the Gryffindor table was, they had scheduled two lunches a week where the half of their friend group not dressed in red would join the half that was so they could all eat together. And in Harry’s determination to avoid Hermione, he had completely forgotten about it.

“Hed… Hedwig.” Harry gasped in the middle of Hedwig’s name, and crouched low to the floor outside of the view of those already sitting in the Great Hall. Hedwig hooted and leaned forward so the feathers on her forehead brushed against Harry’s. “I forgot–”

Hedwig hooted in alarm when her boy practically fell to the floor, barely managing to say her name, and then not able to finish his next sentence.

:Does this worry you so much?

Hedwig knew of her boy’s aversion to speaking with his bushy-haired friend. His hesitancy to walk into classes they shared until right before the bell rang, and his avoidance of the Great Hall and the library made it clear, but most that had happened when they’d crossed paths in the past few days was an increase in his heart rate and a quick retreat. Hedwig was lost on what to do.

She didn’t think she could lead him away from his source of distress this time, and nor was she about to leave him in the state he was now, breathing shallow and fast, hands shaking harder and harder and no longer able to pet her. Hedwig was loath to bring someone to find and help her boy where she could not either, since the last time she had brought someone to him, his face had portrayed the betrayed look she never wanted to see pointed at her again. But when his face rapidly paled, and her boy’s head began to sway like he was about to drop, she knew he had to get someone. 

:Half a minute, chick, I swear I’ll be right back.

Hedwig brushed her wing over the back of his neck and opened her wings. Harry let out a strangled protest when the breeze from her take off must have swept across his face, and spurred her to fly fast.

Many people looked up at her entering screech, but she only cared about one person. Professor Flitwick would know what she needed from him, and indeed she only had to circle above him once before he jumped out of his chair to follow her. He yelled at the students to stay seated as he hurried after Hedwig to find Harry still nearly crumpled on the floor just outside the room, before quickly kneeling in front of her boy and calling for “Poppy!”

Hedwig heard the conversations in the Great Hall grow exponentially in volume at the usage of Madam Pomfrey’s first name. She didn’t think she had ever heard the Professors use each other’s first names in front of the students before.

The short man fluttered around nervously as the mediwitch hustled over, quickly figuring out what was going on and pulling a light blue potion from her robes. “A calming draught, Mr. Potter,” she told him. When Harry shook his head at her and fell back onto his behind to try to back away uselessly into the wall, she gave what came out as a stern apology before forcibly tipping his head back and pouring it into his mouth.

Hedwig chirped, unsure about the treatment of her boy, feeling completely out of control. The chick looked close to thrashing, and Hedwig was scared to get close to him.

The mediwitch held her boy’s mouth shut until he swallowed the potion, and backed away when his muscles relaxed some all at once. Harry was still tense, and his eyes flicked back and forth between the two adults who were too close to him. His breathing had quickly even back out, and his pulse had slowed down, but Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey didn’t back up further soon, they’d start speeding up again, and Hedwig didn’t know how long that blue potion would last.

Harry’s wide eyes looked to Hedwig when she hooted, and he lifted his arm the smallest amount in invitation. Hedwig took it gratefully, not minding being closed in between her boy’s chest and his folded legs in her need to physically comfort him, though she wished she could have fluffed up and screeched at the adults to go away before she was.

They had done their job, gotten Harry to a point where Hedwig was confident her presence could help him, and it was time for them to leave.

“You better not be thinking of running this time, young man,” Madam Pomfrey stated in her no-nonsense tone. It was great for keeping Neville from leaving the infirmary too soon while being treated for potions burns, or curses that Hedwig knew he still had told anyone from whom had cast them, but it only made Harry jittery.

“Poppy, please,” the short man calmed her. “He’s already apologized for that.”

Harry’s breathing became shaky as they spoke, and Hedwig fluttered her wings to let him know to put his legs down. When he unfolded, Hedwig hopped off his arm so her screech wouldn’t be so loud in his ears, and walked towards the staff until they got the hint and backed away.

:Leave!

Hedwig would thank them later, herself.

“Hedwig,” Harry mewled for her, and she gave the two adults one last vicious screech and ran back to her boy. She hopped back onto the glove, and Harry pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the wall to do so.

“Mr. Potter–” Hedwig clacked her beak and hissed at the mediwitch as she approached– :Again! Leave!

The short man put a hand over her forearm and Harry took the chance to start backing away.

“Harry!” Came more than one shout from the Great Hall’s doors. Harry whined, and froze. 

Hermione rushed toward him, seeing him immediately, Neville and Ron at her heels. Harry needed them, and he needed them to go away. He didn’t know what to do, and he could feel the panic fighting against the sluggish overlay of the calming draught. He wanted the draught to win, but wasn’t too hopeful it would.

Neville pulled Hermione back by her shoulders before she could run into him, and stuck out an arm to catch Ron too. “Harry?” Neville asked tentatively. “We, we heard Hedwig screeching, are you okay?” He let go of their friends when they stopped pushing and pulling from him to get closer to Harry. 

“Yeah–” Ron lowered his voice when Harry flinched back from the loud volume. “Mate, I’ve never heard her sound so freaked out before.” 

Harry stayed unmoving, feeling significantly more calm when he registered their voices. They didn’t sound mad, just worried, and Harry needed to tell them he was sorry right now. His eyes flicked over to Professor Flitwick and Madam Pomfrey, standing behind them, and Neville took a step back, misinterpreting the sign.

“Should we leave?” Harry cried out softly, and filled the distance Neville had created. He reached out to him with his right arm, but when Neville came forward to grasp his hand, Harry couldn’t stop his gaze from locking onto the adults watching them.

Ron followed his line of sight and jumped to action. “Madam Pomfrey? Can we take him somewhere more private?” 

“Yes, of course, dearie.” Madam Pomfrey said, and ushered the four of them to the infirmary, staying a good distance away from Harry and the glaring owl on his arm. Professor Flitwick had gone back into the Great Hall, so when Madam Pomfrey pushed a couple beds closer together for the group of friends, before telling them to get her if she was needed and going into her office, they were finally alone.

Neville offered Harry his hand after sitting on the bed next to him, and Harry took it gratefully. He closed his eyes and to just feel the pressure for a couple minutes, and his friends sat silently and waited for him to be ready.

“‘M sorry,” was the first thing he said. He didn’t open his eyes yet, but heard Ron, who sat across from him next to Hermione on the bed across from him, shuffle uncomfortably.

“Mate, don’t apologize for having a panic attack.” Ron told him.

A panic attack? Harry asked in his head.

“Was that what this was?” Hermione asked for him. 

“Yeah,” Ron confirmed. “Don’t tell anyone, but Percy used to get them all the time. Dad always took everyone else into a different room when they happened.”

“Thank you,” Harry said next.

“Of course,” Harry opened his eyes to see his best friend smiling gently.

Hedwig cooed, and Harry brought her closer to his chest to better feel her heat against him. He didn’t know what would've happened without her interference. Nedwig nuzzled even closer to him.

“I missed our lunch together,” Harry explained unprompted, and repeated, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Harry,” Hermione sighed. Harry ducked his head in between his shoulders, and waited. “ I’m sorry.” 

What? Harry raised his head and looked at her. 

That was not what he had expected. What did she have to be sorry for? He squeezed Neville’s hand, maybe a bit too hard, and furrowed his eyebrows at her.

“Neville told me this morning,” she continued, addressing his confusion. “And really, I should have already known, that just because the name I gave you wasn’t a bad one, doesn’t mean it was good either.” Harry closed his mouth, and swallowed. He wondered how Neville knew this was the problem since he’d never told him. 

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she looked at him now, and Harry grew distinctly uncomfortable. “I’m called names all the time, and still, I didn’t think through just giving you one, or even ask you if it was okay when I did.”

“It’s okay,” he muttered, letting go of Neville to pet Hedwig.

“Clearly it isn’t! You’ve just had a panic attack.” 

“I missed our lunch together,” Harry repeated. “That’s why.” Hermione’s mouth twisted.

“That can’t possibly be the only reason–” she started. Ron interrupted.

“Percy got one after dropping a Knut, once,” and that was that. Neville asked Harry about the potion he and Hermione were going to be doing the next day, and Harry widened his eyes at the reminder that he’d yet to tell him.

No more apologies were given, only a promise they’d get together the next day, which eased Harry’s guilt, and laughed together at how scared a couple of adult wixen had been scared of Hedwig.

“Harry?” Hermione had one last thing to say, apparently, stopping him outside of the infirmary after Madam Pomfrey came back down to release Harry, and to tell them they’d better leave now if they didn’t want to be late for their next classes. Ron and Neville had rushed ahead of Hermione to get their things– Neville had promised to get Hermione’s too, since he was faster than her, and told her to go on ahead without him. 

“Yes?” Harry asked her.

“Will you tell me next time, please? If I do something that bothers you?” Hermione looked at him with the same eyes she had when she’d told Harry she was sorry.

Harry thought of how she would swat Ron over the head with a book when he was being especially frustrating, and said, “Of course, Hermione,” but didn’t mention it.

After all, he’d only needed one lesson from his Aunt Petunia when he had asked her to stop slapping him so often, one day after his third grade teacher had given their class a talk about saying “no” to things they didn’t like, hopeful that maybe before she just hadn't understood what he'd wanted when he cried and shield away, but instead she’d hit him over the head with her frying pan.