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Hermione frowns at her brother's door, biting her lip as she listens to the soft, muffled cries coming from it. She doesn't think that Harry has truly grasped that his sobs are noisy, despite the fact that he has learned that muffling them helps.
She grips the doorknob and opens the door quietly, peaking through the crack a little bit.
She can see Harry's hearing aids on the floor, and horror consumes her at seei g red—blood—on them.
Her eyes shift to Harry. He's curled up on his bed, sobbing into his knees. His arms are wrapped around him, blood on his skin, and his hands curling into his ribs in a way that had to be painful.
Hermione bolts away, running downstairs and barreling into the living room where her parents are.
"MUM, DAD," she signs hastily, feeling tears build in her eyes as worry makes her lungs shrink in her chest. "HARRY CRY. BLEED. HELP HIM."
Her mum puts her magazine down, brows furrowing. "Mio, slow down. Sign that again," she says calmly.
Hermione makes a frustrated noise, a tear sliding down her face. "CRY, BLEED, HARRY. NEED HELP,” Hermione signs more insistently, stomping her foot to accentuate her point.
Realization crosses her mum’s face and she bolts upstairs, her dad right on her heels. Hermione follows them, knowing that Harry with feel the vibrations of their feet on their wooden floors. When they’d adopted Harry, her parents had prompted switched out the stone flooring for hollowed wood flooring because it was easier for Harry to feel when they were coming. It startled him less than them flickering the lights or coming behind him to poke him shoulder.
Harry is still crying when they cross into his room, though it has gotten significantly less noisy. Hermione flaps her hands anxiously, curling her fingers as her mum kneels next to Harry’s bed as her dad grabs the first aid kit on Harry’s shelf. Harry peaks up over his knees as he registers the slight weight on the edge of his bed, from her mum pushing down on it lightly to get his attention.
“HARRY. WRONG WHAT?” Her mum signs, her face creased with worry.
Harry breathes in deeply, his eyes puffy as he uncurls his fingers from his ribs. The scratches on his arm aren’t bleeding anymore but there is still dried blood on them. His hands tremble as he signs. “BATHROOM MESS. CAN NOT CLEAN.” He stops for a moment as he stares at his hands, visibly becoming more teary and upset as he signs, “LOUD. SAD. TIRED. HEAVY. SO HEAVY.”
Tears leak from Harry’s eyes as he lets out a heaving sob, his hands trembling like a building in the middle of an earthquake as he signs, “BAD BAD BAD BAD.” His entire body trembles and he shakes his head, his hands twisting and wrapping around the back of his neck as he buries his face back into his knees.
Her mum and dad share a look and Hermione immediately knows that it has something to do about where Harry was living before he was adopted. She only knows that his Aunt and Uncle were very bad people who hurt Harry, but she was never told anything specific unless Harry told her about it, and he hated talking about them.
Hermione bites her lips and then backs out of the room carefully, closing the door, before running down to the kitchen. She drags the stool over to the cupboards and fetches their favorite tea mugs. Then she puts the kettle on, taking out Harry’s favorite tea. There is a container of cookies Harry likes to, cinnamon chocolate chip, and she piles them all up on a plate.
In her newest book— The Valiant Rabbit of Valhalla— the charismatic deer was having a bad day so they had all had a small cuddle day in the deer’s bedroom. Harry liked having tea parties and cuddling sometimes, so maybe that’ll cheer him up! At least, Hermione hoped so.
Once the kettle starts whistling, she pours some water into the mugs, puts them onto a tray, and then plops the plate of cookies onto the tray too. She puts everybody’s favorite tea leaves on the tray and then picks it up, biting her lip as she steadies it so it doesn’t fall.
Hermione walks upstairs carefully, nudging Harry’s door open with her toe, and then walking inside to place the tray on the edge of his desk. Just enough though, that it doesn’t fall. Then she runs out, gathering her favorite sweater, a big heavy bulky thing that Harry used more than she did but always insisted on giving back to her when she was done using it. He was very strange about things like that.
She goes back to the room and smiles a little when she sees Harry’s arms are wrapped up, he is cuddling his favorite beaver plushie and looks more relaxed now. Not fully relaxed because his shoulders are still hunched and his legs are still tense, but he’s not holding himself as tightly and as stiffly anymore.
Hermione clambers onto his bed and puts her sweater at his feet. “YOU WANT WEAR?”
Harry reaches a hand out and thumbs the edge of it before nodding shyly, a slight smile curling at his lips. “YES,” he signs before dragging it up to put on. After he pulls the rim over his head, his hair sticks up wildly and messily, making Hermione giggle.
The she points to the untouched tray of tea mugs and cookies. “TEA PARTY? FANTASY CHARACTER?” she asks hesitantly, crossing her legs.
Her mum hums and nods, settling against Harry’s headboard on the edge of his mattress. “GOOD IDEA. HARRY? YOU WANT? ONLY IF COMFORTABLE YOU.” She stares at Harry with an open expression. Hermione knows that Harry wasn’t comfortable with making decisions and that her parents have been trying to make him more comfortable with making decisions for himself and advocating for himself.
Harry nods again, eyes flickering over to Hermione and he pats the spot next to him. Hermione beams and moves to sit next to him, curling up to match his postion.
Her dad enters the room then, water dripping from his hands, and he blinks at seeing them. “WHAT?” he questions staring at them, before he notices the tray and his expression moves to realization. He nods and sits on Harry’s desk chair, moving to settle near the footboard of Harry’s bed.
“TEA PARY!” Harry signs happily. “FANTASY CHARACTERS US. YOU JOIN?”
“OF COURSE.”
The tea is passed around, everybody being given their respective tea leaves, and Hermione assigns everybody their respective fairytale characters. Her mum is the brilliant hawk, Mrs. Armandeen, her dad is the strong bear, Mr. Beruf, Harry is the resilient crow, Little AJ, and she is the enigmatic owl. (She really, really likes being the owl.)
After a little bit and Harry is more relaxed, smiling a bit more and the tear tracks on his face have almost faced, Hermione tentatively touches her shoulder to Harry’s. He smiles a little bit at her and leans his head on her shoulder, snuggling the edge of his nose into the sweater he’s wearing as he grips the warm mug close to his chest.
“LOVE YOU,” Hermione signs.
Harry smiles even brighter, as if he is the sun personified in that moment. “LOVE YOU TOO.”