Silence (A Dramione Fanfiction)

Chapter 15

"Let's go, Harry. See you, Malfoy."

Harry walked away with her and didn't look back once.

*****

They rounded a corner and Hermione noticed that Harry was shaking.

"Harry? Are you okay?" she said, worry rising. Harry just shook his head. His face was white and his breathing erratic and too light. Quickly, Hermione pulled him into an empty classroom. She shoved down her panic and controlled her voice.

"Harry, I want you to breathe in for four, hold it for four and breathe out for four." she said calmly. Inside she was panicking like crazy, but Harry couldn't know that. He nodded his head once, very fast. She could hear him controlling each breath. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. When she had made sure that he seemed okay again, she tentatively began to speak.

"Harry, what was that?" she said. Again, her voice sounded way calmer than she actually felt. Harry took a while before answering. When he did answer, his voice was almost too quiet to hear.

"It started happening just after the War." he said, not looking at her. "I began... to lose control. I don't... I don't know, Hermione." he said, turning to her. In the pale sunlight filtering in at the window, he looked desperate and lonely and confused. "I don't know what's happening." he finished.

Hermione reached out and hugged her friend. "Have you... told Ginny?" she asked quietly. Harry bowed his head.

"No. Not yet. I don't know how. I don't even know what's happening."

Hermione bit her lip.. She guessed now was the time. "Harry," she said gently. "I might know. But... you may not want to know."

Harry looked at her, his eyes big and sad. "Yes, I do."

He sounded very certain, but still... "Are you sure?"

Harry looked at her. "Yes."

"Harry... I think you have PTSD. Almost definitely. And it's getting worse. You're starting to suffer frequent anxiety attack. You need to talk to Madame Pomfrey."

Harry sucked in a breath. "Oh."

The sound of his voice almost brought Hermione to tears. Lost and bewildered. And she hadn't even finished. "And..."

Harry laughed, sounding bitter and sad. "Of course. There's more. Nothing ever stops, does it?"

Hermione waited. Harry sighed. "Tell me." His voice was flat, unresponsive.

"I think you might be suffering from depersonalisation. Although I'm less sure about that one."

Harry nodded. His expression flickered so fast between emotions, she could barely decipher each one before it vanished. Confusion. Frustration. Anger. Sadness. She couldn't bare it. They had been friends for so long, she hated to see his pain.

"Harry, are you -"

"What's depersonalisation?" he said, cutting the rest of her question in half. Hermione took a breath.

"It's where you feel like you are losing your sense of self. You feel scared most of the time. You -"

"Stop!" Harry shouted. Hermione took a step back, surprised. "Just stop." Harry whispered. Hermione felt like her heart was breaking for her friend.

"You need to see Madame Pomfrey." she said, softly but firmly. Harry looked at her for a long time. Then he looked at the floor.

"Fine."

*****

Harry's POV

Her words were the final pushing point. The weight that finally sank the boat. The first blow in a fight that he couldn't stop, he had to

stop.

That's what he had shouted at her. He could hear the echo in his head. It was like a living, breathing thing.

Stop.

Hermione had left him with Madame Pomfrey, who had confirmed all her words. He could see the kindly yet concerned look in her eye. She looked wary. Hesitant. As if he was a caged animal and she had to calm him down to stop him from running away.

Stop.

His thoughts rattled around in his head. Too much. He couldn't stay still he couldn't breathe help someone please no stop

He looked up to see Madame Pomfrey walking over. She could help please let her help oh God he was dying

"Harry. Stop right now."

He wheezed, the breath coming in quick puffs.

Madame Pomfrey. Looked into his eyes. "Calm down. Now."

He fought to keep his breathing even. Slowly, the breaths lengthened and he looked up at her. He didn't know what she saw in his eyes, but even she looked slightly scared for a split second.

"Harry, we will need to talk about... medication."

Harry nodded slowly. His heart felt wrong. Too heavy. Too weak.

"I'm going to see how you do with some Efvervential Draught, which has helped people with your condition before."

Harry nodded again. The words he wanted to say prickled in his mouth like pieces of broken glass.

"I want you to take it every day, okay."

Harry nodded for the third time.

"Harry, I need a verbal response, please."

"O-okay." he said. It sounded like his voice was made of blades and sand. Scratchy, yet sharp and unforgiving.

"I also want you to stay here tonight." Madame Pomfrey said. Her voice sounded so careful

Harry just looked at her. She pursed her lips, then went back to her office. He could see her scribbling out a letter. Harry lay back on the bed, closed his eyes and tried desperately to think of nothing at all.

A/N: Okay, so this was a slightly shorter chapter, but we're both kinda busy with exam revision, so... 

Lots of love,

Fox and Rabbit xx