Fractured Trust
(Hermione’s POV)
The quiet of Theo’s flat should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. Hermione sat curled up on the edge of the couch, gripping a blanket tightly around herself as if it could shield her from the lingering terror in her bones. She had barely slept. Every noise, every creak of the floorboards, sent a spike of fear through her chest. Ron was going to find her. He always found her. Her fingers trembled as she traced the bruises on her wrist. Evidence of his hands—his control, his anger. She could still feel the ghost of his touch, his fist, the sharp crack of pain that had sent her crumbling. She didn’t know what to do.
Her mind kept circling back to Harry. To Ginny. To the people who had once been her family. If she had anywhere to go, it should have been to them. But she knew better. Ron had turned them against her, whispered poison into their ears until they believed she was the villain. A deep ache settled in her chest.
She was truly alone.
Then, the door swung open. The sound was too sudden, too forceful. Her heart stopped. She gasped sharply, flinching back as panic seized her body. Her breath caught in her throat, her vision tunneling as she scrambled away, her back pressing against the couch. She couldn’t breathe—she could hear his voice in her head, feel the phantom pain—
“Hermione—”
No. No. No. No.
She barely registered the voice, barely saw the blur of figures as her chest constricted. Her hands clutched at her sweater as if it could hold her together, as if she could disappear into nothing.
“Breathe, Hermione.”
She barely felt the hands that reached for her—gentle, grounding. A thumb rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder.
Theo.
Her vision swam as she blinked, struggling to pull herself back, to force herself into the present. Draco knelt in front of her now, his grey eyes watching her with something unreadable—something soft, careful, but burning with restrained fury.
“Hermione,” Theo said again, his voice low, steady. “It’s us. You’re safe.”
Her breath hitched; her chest tight as she forced herself to see them. To believe them. She swallowed hard. “I—I thought—”
“We know,” Draco murmured. “But he’s not here.”
The weight of their words settled over her, but the panic still clung to her skin.
A shaky breath escaped her as she pressed a hand against her forehead. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t,” Theo said immediately. “Don’t apologize.”
Draco exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before his expression hardened. “We went to Potter.”
Hermione’s stomach twisted. She already knew what they were going to say.
“He took Weasley’s side.”
She let out a hollow laugh, though there was no humor in it. Of course. Of course, Harry had.
Her hands curled into fists. “You didn’t tell him I was here, did you?”
Draco’s eyes flashed. “Of course not. We didn’t want Potter running off to Weasley the moment we left.”
A sharp sting of betrayal shot through her, though she had no idea why she had expected anything different. She had spent years believing she had a family, only to find out they had chosen their loyalty to Ron over her. She had no one left.
Except…She glanced at Theo. Then at Draco. Not no one.
Her throat tightened as she gripped the blanket a little tighter. “Then what do I do now?”
Draco’s jaw clenched. “We’ll figure it out.”
Theo nodded. “You’re not alone in this, Hermione. Not anymore.”
The words lingered in the air, heavier than they should have been. You’re not alone in this. Hermione wanted to believe them. She really did. But the past year had been a brutal reminder that hope was dangerous. That trusting people only led to betrayal. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, curling in on herself as Theo and Draco watched her. She hated being looked at like this—like she was fragile, like she might break at any second. But maybe she already had.
Draco exhaled sharply, running a hand down his face. “We need a plan.”
Hermione swallowed; her throat dry. “A plan for what?”
“To keep you safe,” Theo said simply, crossing his arms. “You’re not going back to him.”
The idea of going back made bile rise in her throat. But she also knew that leaving wasn’t as simple as they made it sound.
“I don’t… I don’t know where to go,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll find me. He always does.”
Draco’s expression darkened. “Not if we stop him.”
She scoffed bitterly. “And how do you plan on doing that? You can’t just hex him into oblivion.”
Draco didn’t say anything. Which meant he’d considered it.
Theo sighed and perched on the arm of the couch beside her. “Look, we need to be smart about this. You can’t stay here forever. If he realizes you’re gone, he’s going to start looking, and if he figures out, you’re with me or Draco…”
“He’ll come after you,” she finished for him.
Theo nodded grimly.
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, trying to think through the fog of exhaustion and fear weighing her down.
“I need to leave London,” she said finally.
Both men stiffened.
“Hermione—” Draco started.
“I can’t stay here,” she said firmly. “If I do, he’ll find me. He’ll… he’ll drag me back. And no one will stop him. You saw what Harry said—what he didn’t do.”
Theo muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.
Draco’s fists clenched. “Potter’s a fucking idiot.”
She huffed a humorless laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
Silence stretched between them, the weight of the situation settling heavily on their shoulders.
“You’ll need somewhere to go,” Theo finally said.
Hermione hesitated. She had no money, no job, and nowhere to run. The reality of it all made her stomach twist.
“I… I don’t know where.”
Draco spoke before she could spiral any further. “I have a place.”
She blinked. “What?”
Draco leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he held her gaze. “I have an estate in France. No one knows about it—not even him. You’d be safe there.”
Her mouth went dry. “Draco, I can’t just—”
“You can,” he cut in firmly. “It’s not up for debate, Hermione.”
She stared at him, searching his face for any sign of pity. But all she saw was determination.
Theo leaned back, nodding slightly. “It’s a good idea. At least until we figure out how to handle Weasley.”
Hermione bit her lip, her heart pounding. It felt like too much—like she was asking too much of them. But at the same time… this was her chance.
Her chance to finally get away.
She exhaled shakily. “Okay.”
Draco nodded once, decisive. “We leave tomorrow.”
And just like that, her next step was decided.