“Mimbulus mimbletonia,” Harry muttered quietly. He moved slowly through the portrait hole and into the common room, the world around him none of his concern for the time being.
“Harry!” Hermione jumped up from the couch and made her way over to him. She and Ron had taken to waiting up for him whenever he had a detention with Umbridge which, lately, had been more often than not. She put one hand on his shoulder as she surveyed his shaking and bloodied hand in her other.
She led him to the couch where Ron held the bowl of murtlap essence in his lap. Harry sat down as Ron gently picked up his hand and set it in the bowl. Had Harry been more present, the potion would’ve been soothing.
“Harry?” Hermione was kneeling in front of him now as she looked him in the eye. “Are you with us?”
A humming noise escaped Harry’s lips. He could just barely make out her garbled question. He realized early on that when he was with Umbridge, if the detention lasted long enough, his mind did this weird thing where it seemed to almost turn off. It confused him, he couldn’t explain it, but he supposed it made the abuse more bearable. Usually his mind was working properly again by the time he got to the common room, but not tonight.
Hermione frowned and got up. A second later, she was at his side as she pulled his head to rest on her shoulder.
“It’s okay now.” Her voice still sounded far away, but he could now feel her hand carding through his hair. He closed his eyes.
“It’s nearly two,” said Ron. “We should get to bed.”
Harry didn’t know what time his detention had gotten over, but he supposed his eyes were closed for longer than he realized. He felt Ron take his hand out of the bowl and begin to wrap it with gauze.
Hermione helped him stand up as Ron grabbed the bowl and lead their way upstairs.
Harry was beginning to feel the dull throb of his hand. He seemed to get increasingly more aware with each step he took.
Quietly, so as not to wake Dean, Seamus, and Neville, Ron opened the door to their dorm. Harry wasn’t planning on changing into pyjamas, but a neatly folded pair was waiting for him on his bed. Hermione turned around while he changed.
“I’ve got it,” Hermione whispered to Ron.
Hermione joined Harry in sitting on his bed. She pulled the curtains closed and muttered a silencing charm.
“How are you feeling now?” Hermione asked carefully.
“Fine.”
“Really? Because you seemed a bit… lost in your head for a while there.” Her eyes begged him to let her in.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do it.”
His eyes met hers. It was an accidental confession, one he didn’t mean to let slip tonight. He could see her concern, but more than that, she looked almost relieved.
The truth was, all year Harry really had wanted to confide in Ron and Hermione about how he was feeling, but he felt weird about sharing his feelings like that. Anyway, he figured it wasn’t worth putting the stress on them. There’d be no point in telling them, because there was nothing they could do about the circumstances. Now, however, he could finally see that this was all Hermione had truly wanted. He supposed he could give her that, even if he didn’t see any point in it. For the first time in months, he finally let his guard down.
“Hermione, it’s taking everything I have.” His voice cracked on her name.
“You have to go to Dumbledore. Please just tell him already,” Hermione begged.
“No, I can’t. It wouldn’t help anything, I told you.”
“But I think it would. I know things are hard right now but he cares about his students, especially you. He’d want to know at least.”
“And that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Harry began. “You know Dumbledore. You know how he is. He knows everything that goes on around here. He already knows, I know he does.”
“But even if Fudge backed her up on this, up until this year Dumbledore was practically running the Ministry himself with how often Fudge came to him for advice. He still has more way more power in the Ministry than the papers are giving him credit for. If he knew then why wouldn’t he stop her?”
“I don’t know!” Harry shouted. “Why does he do anything he does! I can’t—”
Harry paused and took a deep breath to compose himself. He hated how hard it was to control his anger lately. “I just— I need his help. He’s the only one who knows as much about Voldemort and now he won’t talk to me and I don’t know what to do. Honestly, I feel like I don’t know how to do anything anymore.”
“We’re here for you, Ron and me. You know I mean it.”
“I don’t want to worry you with this. This is my thing, anyway.”
Hermione looked at him in shock. “When are you going to get it into your head? We’re in this together. Of course we’ll worry about you as long as we live, but we’ll do so gladly.”
Harry laughed. “You want to worry about me?”
“We want to care for you.”
And then he finally understood, finally heard what she was saying. It was hard to wrap his head around why, but they cared about him.
“Thank you,” Harry whispered.
Hermione hugged him tightly, he realized, for the first time since they’d arrived at school. It was the first time he’d let her hug him.
“I don’t mean to be so angry all the time. I don’t mean to push you guys away.” He needed her to know he wasn’t trying to hurt them.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”