I stare off into space.
Yes, I do think.
And I don’t have the emotional range of a teaspoon either.
Well, when it comes to Hermione…
My best mate of six years.
I worry about him.
I know Hermione does too.
He’s like my brother.
I wonder if Hermione is having the same bad feeling I have now.
‘Something wrong?’ I ask.
I mentally answer myself.
Something is wrong.
So many things are wrong right now…
‘I’m fine.’ She answers me.
I watch her.
That’s what I do…
I watch people.
She didn’t want to say that.
I know exactly what she wanted to say…
So I say it.
‘Let’s go talk to Harry. He’s probably lonely.’
She gives me a startled look.
See, I’m not as dense as people think.
I just have to watch for a while.
I stand and stretch.
I start towards the boy’s dorm.
I know Hermione’s following me.
When I touch the doorknob to out dorm, I fill with dread.
Something’s wrong on the other side of that door.
And it has to do with Harry.
I open the door.
I’m in shock.
Only Hermione’s cry startles me into action.
I threw myself across the room at Harry.
I rip the knife out of his grasp.
A thousand questions run in my head.
Why? What caused him to try this?
Why didn’t he ask for help?
We would have helped him.
‘Why?’ She asks him.
He answers my unspoken question.
‘Because I want to…Because I want to give up.’
It pains me to see him like this.
Hermione’s knelt beside me…
And in front of our friend…
I have no idea what to say to him.
He’s been hurt so many times…
I’m afraid that this time has broken him.
‘We’ve always been there for you.’ She tells him.
I still don’t understand.
‘We’ve always been there to help.’
I lay my hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
‘We love you, Harry.’
I squeeze her shoulder as she says this.
I don’t miss the look of disbelief in Harry’s eyes.
‘Really?’ He whispers to us.
He looks between us.
Trying to find confirmation that it’s not all a joke.
‘Yes.’ Hermione’s soft voice answers.
I see shame…
And tears in Harry’s eyes.
He looks away from us.
I learned long ago, that Harry refused to show weakness in front of anybody.
Which meant that he didn’t cry in front of anyone.
I don’t think he ever has.
He’s never had a shoulder to cry on…
Hermione pulls him into an embrace.
I watch him bury his head in Hermione’s shoulder.
I drop the knife.
I join them, wrapping my own arms around my distraught brother.
He shakes with the force of his anguish.
I start to unconsciously rub his back.
He’s finally hit his breaking point.
For six years I’ve watched Harry bottle his emotions.
For six years I’ve waited for them to spill over.
Fifth year I knew they were starting to spill…
I knew Harry was trying to build more walls to hold them in…
I knew it was only a matter of time.
I now wish that Harry would have shed some of his emotions…
Then it might not have come to Harry trying to kill himself.
I’m still rubbing his back.
We lay down, pulling the reluctant hero down with us.
The raw sobs hurt me.
I always feel hurt when Harry’s hurt.
We start to rock him.
I’m still rubbing his back.
Hermione’s stroking his hair.
He starts to quiet.
‘Don’t leave me.’ Harry says desperately.
It sounds like the plea of a frightened child.
‘We won’t.’ I murmur into his ear.
As we lay there, holding our brother I become aware of one thing…
Maybe we can still fix him.