Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps, her side throbbing with excruciating pain. She stumbled into the empty compartment, shutting the blinds behind her. Her shaky hands were soaked in blood.
The curse from Dolohov had been meant to be lethal. Thank goodness he was silenced, reducing the curse's potency. Otherwise, she'd likely have suffered an agonizing death.
Released from the infirmary just hours before the Hogwarts Express' departure to King's Cross, Madame Pomfrey's array of potions and strict instructions had promised a full recovery. The nasty scar on her chest and side would remain, but this...this wasn't supposed to happen.
Hermione's dark blue shirt was now damp with blood, the gauze and dressing underneath it, soaked red. She couldn't alarm her friends, not now. Harry was reeling from Sirius' death, and Ron was consumed with consoling him. She refused to be a burden.
Earlier, Hermione had excused herself quickly when the stabbing pain began, intending to find solace in the loo. But every breath burned, forcing her to seek refuge in an empty compartment. She tried to calm her breathing, but the pain was too much; her vision began to blur.
Just as she thought she was about to pass out, the compartment door opened. Hermione turned around quickly, and her eyes met Theodore Nott's. His mop of brown curls was a little longer than when the year started. His eyes, wide with concern, locked onto hers.
"Granger," he said, his voice deeper by an octave since the beginning of their fifth year. "Are you okay?"
Hermione tried to brush it off, telling him to leave, as she attempted to retrieve her wand from her pocket. But the blood on her hand made the wand slippery, and it fell from her grasp. She tried to kneel to pick it up, but the pain was too intense, leaving her breathless.
As she grabbed the edge of the seat to break her fall, strong arms enveloped her, holding her upright before she could collapse. She met his gaze, his green eyes filled with worry.
"I know about the curse," Theodore told her, his voice soft. "I know you got hurt in the Department of Mysteries. Let me see; I can help you."
Hermione tried to shake her head, but the pain was too much. She nodded instead, and Theodore gently lifted her, sitting her down on the bench.
With a flick of his wand, he locked the compartment and cast a silencing charm.
Hermione noted that Theodore's hands were slender, like a musician's, with long fingers and pale skin. They hesitated at the hem of her shirt, his eyes meeting hers to ask silently for permission. She nodded again.
With extremely careful and gentle movements, Theodore raised her shirt, revealing the dressing and gauze covered in blood. A wordless flick of his wand sliced open the gauze, exposing her bruised side and chest. The boil-like wounds were open, bleeding profusely.
Theodore's voice was laced with concern, despite his attempt at levity. "That's a nasty wound, Granger." Hermione's eyes closed, fighting back tears.
Apart from their project partnership this year, she barely knew Theodore. Now, in her most vulnerable state – bare-chested and bleeding in his fancy robes – she felt exposed. Yet, his gentle touch and soothing magic calmed her.
The warmth of his spell enveloped her, and his whispered incantations were barely audible. His wand danced across her skin, careful not to touch the angry, inflamed flesh. The healing magic was complex, far from basic.
As the spell took hold, Hermione's pain receded, replaced by a dull ache. She opened her eyes to find Theodore's gaze locked onto hers, his expression intense.
"It's not fully healed," he said, his voice low. "The curse is...dark. I'll need to research further to understand its properties."
Hermione nodded, still processing the events. Theodore's eyes never left hers, his gaze burning with an unspoken question.
"Was this my father, Granger?" Theodore asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as he transfigured his outer robes into gauze and began wrapping Hermione's chest.
Hermione hesitated, unsure how to approach the subject. Theodore's father, Nott Sr., had been present in the Department of Mysteries, attempting to kill them with lethal spells.
"Was it him, Granger?" Theodore pressed, his eyes locked onto hers.
"No," Hermione said softly, "I'm sorry."
Theodore's expression turned puzzled. "Sorry? What on Salazar's name do you have to be sorry about?"
Hermione's gaze dropped, tears falling from her eyes. "Your father...he's in Azkaban. I'm sorry."
Theodore's face transformed from confusion to shock. "Granger, look at me," he said, his voice serious.
Hermione met his gaze.
"I came here to thank you," Theodore said. "My life in my house is a complete hell, and with Father locked up...well, it will be the first summer I won't need to use any healing spells on myself."
Hermione's eyes widened.
"You took care of him for me," Theodore continued. "You made me free of him. I don't know how long he'll stay there, and I'm sure as hell won't lift a finger to get him an attorney. But for now, I can have a normal summer. So thank you, Granger."
Theodore's words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.
"My father...he's always been cruel," Theodore continued, his voice barely audible. "But after Mother left...he became unbearable. The Dark Lord's influence consumed him, and I became his punching bag." She reached out, her hand covering his.
"I learned to defend myself, to heal myself," Theodore said, his voice laced with bitterness. "But the scars...they never fully fade." Hermione's grip on his hand tightened, and his eyes locked onto Hermione's, his expression intense.
Theodore's eyes burned with intensity as he gazed at Hermione. "Don't hide your scars, Granger. They're testament to your strength, to your resilience. They make you more, not less."
Hermione's voice trembled. "I'm maimed, Theodore. Broken."
Theodore's face softened, his voice filled with conviction. "You're not broken, Hermione. You're beautiful, scars and all. They don't define you; they enhance you."
With a fluid motion, Theodore opened his shirt, revealing a canvas of burns and scars on his chest. Hermione gasped. The pale skin was marred by purple, red, and pale marks, each telling a story of pain and survival.
Theodore's face, once seemingly unblemished, transformed as he dropped the glamour charm. A scar from the corner of his mouth to his left eye appeared, deep in his cheek.
Hermione's hand rose involuntarily, her fingers tentative as she touched his cheek. Theodore closed his eyes, allowing her touch.
"They don't define me, Granger," he whispered. "They make me who I am. Stronger. And yours...yours do the same."
Theodore's eyes locked onto hers, his gaze burning with sincerity.
"You're stunning, scars and all. Inside and out."
Hermione's expression turned wry, a hint of self-deprecation in her voice. "It's silly, isn't it? I survived this, didn't I? There's a war brewing, people are dying...and I'm crying over a scar."
Theodore's face softened, understanding etched on his features. "It's not just a scar, Granger. It's a reminder of what you endured, and you are not crying only over a scar, you are crying because you are in grief, because you are in pain.”
Hermione shook her head, her eyes welling up again. "I shouldn't be crying. Not when...not when others have lost so much more."
Theodore's hands enveloped hers, his touch warm and comforting. "Grief and pain aren't measurable, Granger. Your scars, your emotions...they matter."
Hermione's gaze dropped, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so selfish."
Theodore's fingers gently lifted her chin, his eyes locking onto hers. "You're not selfish. You're human. And that's what makes you strong."
Theodore's words wrapped around Hermione's heart, offering solace amidst the turmoil.
Hermione's heart swelled. For the first time, she saw her own scars in a new light – symbols of survival, not shame.
Their gazes held, and Hermione saw Theodore in a new light. Beyond the handsome facade, she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the scar on his cheek, and the subtle freckles on his nose. His boyish features, juxtaposed with the scars, made him breathtakingly beautiful.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she involuntarily leaned in, drawn to the vulnerability etched on Theodore's face. Her eyes locked onto his, the green irises sparkling like emeralds.
Theodore's breath hitched, his eyes never leaving hers. His face angled slightly, as if anticipating her next move.
Hermione's lips parted, her mouth inches from Theodore's. The air was charged with tension, the silence between them palpable.
Theodore's hand drifted up, his fingers grazing Hermione's cheek, sending shivers down her spine. His touch was gentle, yet electrifying.
As they hovered on the cusp of a kiss, the Hogwarts Express's whistle pierced the air, the sound fading into the distance. The compartment's dim lighting seemed to amplify the intimacy between them.
Theodore's voice was barely audible, his words sending tremors through Hermione's entire being. "Granger..."
Hermione's eyes fluttered closed, her lips brushing against Theodore's. The world around them melted away, leaving only the thrumming of their hearts.
Their lips met in a tender, careful kiss, innocent and sweet. Time lost all meaning as they savored the moment. The silencing charm Theodore had cast upon arrival began to fade, and the distant tumult of the Hogwarts Express gradually seeped back into their sanctuary.
Ron's voice echoed from outside the compartment door, "Hey, has anyone seen Mione?" The closed blinds hid them from view.
Hermione rested her head on Theodore's chest, feeling his heart hammering against her ear. She smiled, her eyes closed.
"I need to go back," Hermione whispered. "They're looking for me."
Theodore nodded, his fingers tracing her jawline. "Yeah, me too."
He helped Hermione smooth her shirt, his hands gentle. As they stood, Theodore took her hand.
"Do you have any pain potions with you?" he asked.
"In my trunk," Hermione replied.
Theodore nodded. "I'd like to see you during the summer...to help with the curse's aftermath." His words stumbled, betraying his nervousness.
Hermione's smile hinted at her understanding. "I'd love to see you."
Theodore's smile, slightly crooked, stole her breath. His eyes sparkled.
Before opening the compartment door, Theodore cast a fleeting glance at Hermione. Their lips met once more, sharing a short, tender kiss. Incredibly sweet.
As the door slid open, reality rushed back in. Ron's voice, Ginny's laughter, and the rumble of the Express enveloped them.
Theodore's glamour charm reapplied, hiding his scars once more.
Hermione stepped out, her heart still entwined with Theodore's.
Hermione emerged from the compartment, a subtle flush on her cheeks. Theodore lingered behind, allowing a discreet interval before following.
"Hey, Mione! There you are," Ron exclaimed, relief etched on his face. "I was looking everywhere for you. Where'd you go?"
Hermione's composure returned. "Just changing my dressings."
Ron nodded sympathetically, swiftly shifting topics. "Hey, I found some new Chocolate Frogs! Got a few good cards..."
As they walked to their original compartment, Draco Malfoy's booming voice cut through the corridor.
"Oi! Nott, where were you?"
Theodore's response was indistinct, but Hermione sensed his unease.
She glanced over her shoulder, catching Theodore's gaze. Their eyes locked in a secret smile, a promise shared between them.
For an instant, they forgot about the surrounding chaos, the war looming ahead, and the complexities of their worlds.
Then, reality reclaimed them.
Theodore's expression smoothed into his usual mask, while Hermione turned back to Ron, her smile now a gentle, friendly one.