I get to go home tomorrow.

The thought had been rolling around in his head all day yesterday, and had mostly stopped him from sleeping; he'd managed a couple of cat naps but still didn't feel remotely refreshed.

"You've been doing really well," Matt said yesterday, just after a successful walk with the cane. "You managed to make it along the corridor, turn around, and come back to the room without falling. That's a massive achievement, Theo."

"It doesn't feel like a massive achievement when I have to sit down and rest for an hour after going to relieve myself. And I sit down to do it too!"

Matt smiled at Theo's scowl and clicked his tongue. "You know you're doing great, and the fact that you can do that now means that Healer Dawlish will be able to let you go home. And all before Christmas too! I honestly thought you'd be here longer."

Christmas. It was less than two weeks away and, if he was honest, Theo hadn't thought about it all that much. So much else had been going on, the holiday season had sort of passed him by.

"I'm so happy!" Hermione squeaked when he was settled in his bed once more.

His legs were trembling, and he was breathing hard, so could only offer up a wan smile.

She clutched his hand, bringing it to her lips. "Everything is tidy and ready for your return," she said, misty-eyed.

"I'll be the judge of that," he said with a grin, squeezing her hand briefly. "I'm sure everything will be great."

Would it though? he thought as he listened to Healer Dawlish explain the regimen of potions and healing charms he would still have to have for the next few weeks. The regular check-ups to make sure his wounds had fully healed. The physio sessions with Matt, as well as the daily exercises the Healer had prescribed for him.

"This makes no sense," Hermione said, annoyed at something Healer Dawlish had said.

Theo tried to focus again; it was something to do with either the potions, or…

"He will need something more, to help him… adapt, surely."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, Theo will adapt to walking with a cane very well. You've seen how much better…"

"That's not what I mean," Hermione said, lowering her voice slightly.

Theo frowned, wondering what she was thinking, and why she wasn't saying it to him, rather talking about him like he wasn't in the room.

"He gets scared, nightmares. Isn't there…" She stopped, waving her hands in the air, lost for words, seemingly.

"Miss Granger, Theo is on enough potions. To be honest, one of his potions is simply to stop him developing a stomach ulcer because he is taking so many potions! And the healing charms will pick up the slack where the potions can't reach. There's a dreamless sleep draught that I can show you how to mix?"

Hermione huffed and tossed her head. "No, what we've got here is failure to communicate! He's been traumatised! Physically he will heal, and with only a few scars to show for it." She sighed. "But he relives it, every night. He needs counselling or something. Doesn't St Mungo's offer something like that for trauma sufferers?"

"Well, it's not something I put much store in myself; nothing a good walk in the fresh air won't cure. I find it strange that you would request such a thing for Theo. You made your feelings on the matter clear, a while ago…"

"That was different," Hermione said hurriedly. "We'll just figure it out ourselves, I guess."

"I'm right here, you know," Theo muttered after Healer Dawlish had left, the petulant tone in his voice making him grimace. "Could you not talk about me?"

"Sorry, Theo," Hermione said, moving over and touching his hand. "I just wanted to see…"

"I heard," he muttered, pulling his hand away from hers. "I don't need anyone coddling me, Hermione. I'm well aware of what I go through at night."

"Okay," she said quietly, "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he said, though his voice told a different story.

"I need to go and speak to Harry this afternoon. I think he may want to have someone stationed at your house, for at least a few days, once you get home."

"I don't want a babysitter, Hermione. I just want to go home."

"We will, Theo, tomorrow. Everything is going to be fine."

"It's going to be a long time until everything is 'fine'."

"I'll… I'll be back soon," she said quietly, her eyes misted and lip trembling. She turned and left the room quickly.

Theo opened his mouth, then closed it again. He punched the bed and swore. Staring up at the ceiling he berated himself; he knew he was being ridiculous, paranoid, but that phrase of hers… Every time he heard it, it made his heart race, and he couldn't get the traitorous thoughts to leave him alone. At least he would be home again soon, away from this damn antiseptic stink, the constant pokes and prods, the indignity of trying to stagger across the room to the small bathroom before he had an accident.

Hermione had nothing to do with my captivity.

Theo looked around his new bedroom and couldn't fathom how he was able to date someone who was so messy. Hermione Granger, who came across as so sorted and had her shit together, was a secret mess.

He was grateful for her all the same. She had barely left the house unless she absolutely needed to-such as to drop her work projects in-and had been around him when he needed her to be, but also gave him the space he needed too. Just knowing she was upstairs, or a room or two away, was always comforting.

While he had been laid up she had moved his study around, shrinking the desk and moving the bookcases to make room for the bed; she had brought the bed from her flat and installed it here, so he didn't have to battle with the stairs, except to bathe. The downstairs toilet was just in front of the door, tucked under the staircase, the kitchen was through the open doorway to the left, the front door straight down the hallway ahead, with the living room accessible via the archway in the kitchen or the hallway. There was a window in the back wall of his study that looked out onto the garden, and they had been greeted for the last two mornings by Quincy, tapping on the glass and hooting happily at him.

She had done so much for him, and had unspokenly moved in. He was sure there were plenty of belongings still back at her apartment, but he couldn't be sure. Hermione's apartment had certainly thrown up over his house, and as a consequence, he was beginning to think he needed a bigger one.

The offending Prophet from the other day had been disposed of before he had left St Mungo's, but it still played on his mind.

They hadn't spoken in any meaningful way about the elephant in the room. They had cried a little more together, but in truth, he felt totally helpless. Another thing he couldn't help with or deal with himself, he reflected bitterly.

The thought of Hermione carrying his child was so bittersweet. He would have been over the moon. And yet that was something else he had lost. He had been denied the opportunity to experience that joy, the fear he would no doubt have felt at the thought of being a father, of making sure nothing happened to Hermione during her pregnancy. To speculate on whether they would have a girl or boy. Girl, he secretly hoped, thinking of what he had lost as a child.

And to lose her. A dream realised and ripped away within mere moments of each other. It hurt. Worse than the physical pain he had endured for those months.

This loss felt like the sharpest pain of all.

He moved a pile of clothes and sat down on the edge of the bed. This was the bed in which she had muttered she was pregnant.

He remembered fully now. Remembered as he drifted the words she had said and kicked himself for ever allowing himself to forget them. The most important words of his life.

And she had dealt with it all by herself. The loss, the pain. It was his fault, he knew it deep down. They would be awaiting their bundle of joy in a few months if it hadn't have been for all the stress his disappearance had caused Hermione.

He wiped his eyes as tears threatened to fall.

"Theo? Are you ok?" her worried voice interrupted his quiet.

"I'm fine." He snapped quickly.

She nodded mutely and disappeared from the doorway.

It was moments like this he wished he was alone. He didn't want her pity, to be babysat, to be surrounded by mess. His inability to keep his thoughts reasonable only added to his frustration.

His anger, misery and temper peaked, and with a roar, he picked up the mass of clothes beside him and threw them at the wall.

Halfway up the stairs, his girlfriend stifled a sob with her back to the wall, listening to his pain.

Damp, cloying darkness wrapped his head. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't see. He tried to run, but his legs refused to move.

The terrible scraping sound came again. He could almost hear the sparks flying from the blade as it shrieked across the stone.

His throat closed up as he tried to scream, nothing but a mewling whimper escaping his throat.

A hand clamped around his upper arm and the blazing trail of fire sliced through his skin. Blood spurted from his neck. It trickled down his throat, filling his lungs. Painfully bright light filled his vision; a stinking hessian bag flying into the air above him.

A mane of bushy hair loomed over him, and a knife, dripping with blood-his blood-was waved in his face. The point cut through his cheek and scraped over his teeth.

"What we've got here," hissed the figure holding him down. She placed the tip of the knife over his heart and bore down on it with her full weight. "Is failure!" The knife slid downwards, bumping past his ribs, cutting a deep slash through his flesh, piercing his heart. "To communicate!"

He bolted up in bed, drenched in sweat. Every part of him screamed in pain; remembered pain, residual pain from the dream, real pain.

Someone grabbed his arm, and in the half darkness of the room, he saw the bushy hair that normally filled his heart with love. With a strangled cry he threw himself away from the monster of his nightmare. His legs were tangled, and he landed in a heap on the floor.

"Theo!"

He couldn't breathe still, his heart hammering through his chest. Crab-like he scrambled across the floor, away from the shadowy figure on the bed.

"Theo, it's okay, it's me…"

His back thumped against the wall, and he hunkered, head in his hands. His lungs screamed at him. Fog wrapped his mind like a wet flannel.

Soft hands touched him, gathered him into their embrace. A shuddering gasp echoed as he finally managed to draw breath. Panting, crying, he held onto the arms around him; a lifeline in the dark.

"I've got you, love. I've got you, you're safe."

Tender lips planted soft kisses across his forehead and cheeks. He couldn't stop his arms from shaking, shivering like he was hypothermic.

The pair sat that way for an hour, as they had for the last couple of weeks, only this time Theo was home. The familiar surroundings weren't helping though. She whispered words of comfort, bringing him back from the edge of his panic. The pain began to subside from his healing wounds, a dull ache replacing the stabbing fire.

"I'm sorry," he whispered at last, his voice trembling.

"Stop, you don't need to apologise. There's nothing to be sorry for, Theo!"

"This happens every night. You haven't slept properly in days."

She brushed the damp hair from his forehead, replacing it with a kiss. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

He looked up, seeing the amused glint, the love and affection in her eyes. He smiled for what felt like the first time in days. "You're a cheeky bitch, Granger," he said, pulling her to him and stopping her reply with his mouth.

"He is so gorgeous," Hermione whispered.

"Yeah, he's not bad, is he?" Blaise said with a grin down at the sleeping baby in her arms. "Got some teeth coming through, so nights are good fun."

"Luckily, my darling husband is good with small pain relief charms, so he settles quickly," Ginny said, setting the salad bowl on the table. She held up the bowls, and Hermione gave a small shake of her head. With a rueful smile, Ginny took one of the four bowls back into Theo's kitchen.

"How is he?" Blaise asked quietly.

Hermione sighed, blinking rapidly. "Up and down for the last few days. He's okay for the most part, I think. His wounds are healing well, but he suffers from terrible headaches a lot of the time. I think some of it is the side effects from all the potions."

"I invited him over to ours the other day, just for a drink and a catch up." Blaise gently touched Ginny's arm in thanks as she spooned a generous portion of the salad into a bowl and set it before him. "He didn't reply, so guessed he wasn't up for it. I miss him. Barely had a chance to see him since… you know."

Hermione nodded, leaning slightly to bump her shoulder into his. "He told me he'd replied to you, but he's been… distant, even from me. Just the thought of other people being near him can make him withdraw."

Ginny placed a hand over Hermione's and gave it a gentle squeeze. "He'll come around, eventually. It'll just take time."

"I know, but it's hard. Moreso for him, I'm sure. I just want to hold him and make it alright again."

Luca stirred then, yawning and opening his big dark eyes.

"Hi, little man," cooed Hermione, "did you have a nice nap?"

He looked around blearily, confused about where he was. His chin began to tremble a little, his tiny hands clenching. Then he looked over to one side and saw Blaise. His mouth opened in a big grin; one small bump of white was visible near the centre of his top gum, another along the bottom.

"Look at them gnashers!" exclaimed Blaise in a silly voice. Hermione passed Luca to him as the baby reached up for his father. "Hey, little guy!"

The sound of baby babble filled the air as Blaise stood and walked with him for a bit, Luca pointing at things and Blaise telling him what they were. The beautiful family scene made Hermione's heart ache, and she wiped a small tear from her eye. She breathed deeply, trying to stop the tears before they got the better of her.

Ginny stood and came around to wrap her arms around her. "It'll be you guys soon. Give it time."

Hermione gave a small breath of laughter, those traitorous tears spilling down her cheeks. "He doesn't want to sleep in the same bed anymore, Ginny."

"Really? I thought he was finding you being here a comfort."

"So did I. He finds it hard to have people close to him. Physically close. It makes him nervous. He had a lot of nightmares for the first few days, and I… Apparently I was in all of them."

"He said that?" Blaise said, his dark eyes filled with concern.

Hermione shook her head. "Not in so many words. But he was always scared of me when he woke, trying to get away from me." She bowed her head, letting her hair conceal her face. "I could hear him one night, begging for me to stay away. He was still asleep."

She felt Ginny and Blaise exchange looks before her friend's arms tightened around her. "It's just a side effect, like you said," she whispered. "He doesn't truly believe you would hurt him. He can't do!"

"Paranoia doesn't make sense, Ginny," she muttered. "Something's happened to my Theo, and there's nothing I can do to help him. Every time I think I'm getting close to him again, he pulls away. I don't know what to do."

"He'll come around, Hermione," Blaise said. "I thought what happened during the War was going to break him, and for a long time he was down." Blaise shook his head, ignoring the women's curious looks. "Needless to say he's bounced back from stuff before. He just needs time."

She nodded, wiping her eyes with the tissue Ginny held out to her, wondering what 'stuff' Blaise was referring to. Blaise was concentrating on Luca though and the moment passed.

She felt like she had just got Theo back, only to start losing him all over again.

A Christmas Party.

There would be a lot of people there; friends, loved ones, people that were as close as family. A room full of love and laughter. All for him, he believed; thanks for having him home.

He didn't think he could face it.

He knew he couldn't face it if he was honest with himself. He could barely stand to have her near him when he was in one of these moods. These feelings of bleakness had become far too frequent now. There was no way he could cope with…

Theo gave a shudder, running a hand through his hair. His mouth twisted in distaste and he wiped his palm on the carpet.

"Theo, love," she called through the door, "breakfast's ready." There was a pause, and he could almost see her screw up her courage. "Mum and dad asked if you… if they could…"

"No," he growled. "I said no, and I bloody well meant it!"

Robert didn't really want another pureblood upsetting his girl, and who could blame him? Weasley was a shit at times. Oliver had upset her.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" he muttered, the heels of his hands pressed against his eyes. The pain was grounding, helped him to think, to centre himself. "Robert is a good man. Hermione is a good woman. Let her in. You're a fucking mess when she's not here with you. Look at you!"

"Theo?"

He could hear the tears in her voice. "I'm fine," he snapped, then let out a heavy sigh. His hands lowered, and he gripped the duvet tightly. "I'm fine," he said again, his voice softer. "I'm sorry, Mina… Truly, I am. I don't understand what's going on with me."

"I'm here, Theo. I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through this, I'm sure of it."

He smiled then, standing and shuffling slowly towards the door.

"I remember those feelings. The pain, the ache. It sits in your bones, twitches over your nerves when you least expect it."

Theo stopped, hand inches from the door handle. A tendon in his jaw jumped; he remembered what she had said about her pain.

"I was not an easy person to be around for… well, quite a while. Ron will tell you, I'm sure!" There was a slight lift in her voice, one of amusement.

He was sure it was amusing, now. His fist clenched. He waited though, he could feel it coming.

"It is hard, Theo."

"How would you know what I feel?" That was unfair, he knew, but he couldn't help goading her into the trap, and he hated himself for it.

"I know the pain, Theo, I do. I felt that horrible curse. Bellatrix's knife against my throat. The... things she said she would do. What she would let others do to me…"

"It's not the same, Hermione. It could never be the same!" His voice was raised. Angry. Unreasonably so. You are a shit, Theodore Nott.

"Please, Theo, let me help you. I know what you went through. It wasn't as extended as yours, I know, and I'm not saying it was anywhere near as bad…"

If you keep this up, you will lose her. He shook his head to chase the voice of reason away. He was angry and wanted to vent; she was the only one he could hurt, the only one who could help. "It wasn't even close!" And how will she help you if you push her away all the time?

"Theo, please! This is something we share! We were both tortured, both held against our will. I can understand…"

He slammed his fist against the wood, the door shivering in its frame. He barely heard Hermione's scream of fright over the blood pounding in his ears. "You could never understand! At least you knew why! You knew what that crazy bitch wanted! I spent five months being tortured, and I have no fucking clue why!"

He spun away from the door and dropped onto the bed again. He covered his face with a pillow. There. Are you fucking happy now?

No, he wasn't happy. He knew she understood his pain, better than anyone. She might not truly grasp the scale of what he had been through, but she had been tortured.

He hated himself for belittling what she had gone through. That wasn't how a real partner acted. A true boyfriend would be accepting her help, her love. Listening to her story and the common ground they shared.

He sat up, hearing the quiet jingle of a breakfast tray being placed gently outside his door. He reached the door in two strides and flung it open.

Hermione gave another scream and staggered away from him, back to the hallway wall opposite.

He drank in the sight of her. Her hair was wild and untamed, her eyes red-rimmed.

He stepped over the tray slowly, his eyes on hers, hands held out to her. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

She looked away for a moment, and his heart dipped towards his feet. Her eyes found his again though, and she smiled. It didn't remove the pain in those deep brown eyes, but it lightened her expression a little. "We say that a lot at the moment, don't we?"

"I know." He stopped in front of her, hesitant to touch her without a clear sign she would welcome the contact. "I've been horrible over the last few days. Unreasonable."

"Slightly smelly too," she whispered, a grin chasing around her mouth.

He gave a grunt of laughter, resisting the urge to touch his hair again; he knew it was a mess and he should definitely wash today if only to feel a little more human. "Yeah, I'll give you that one."

"But you can still hug me though, if you want to."

He didn't have to be asked twice.

Scars.

Livid slashes across his chest and stomach. Pinker than the surrounding skin they stood out to his eyes. His finger traced the one that ran down his cheek, partially hidden by several days of stubble. 'An air of ruggedness' the paper had declared it.

'A constant reminder of pain and fear' was how he thought of it.

He stared at it through the condensation that covered the mirror in the bathroom; he looked at all of them, the marks that decorated his naked body deeper than tattoos ever would. Water dripped from him, onto the tiled floor, and he felt again that pit pat of the water droplet that had kept him alive.

A chill chased through him despite the humidity of the room, and he snatched the towel from the rail and wrapped it around his waist. Taking a smaller one too he covered his face.

For a moment he could forget the pain, but all too soon the closeness of the damp material had the opposite effect; hot, clammy material wrapped around his head caused a jolt of fear.

He threw the towel away, leaning on the sink and breathing hard. His knuckles were pale as he gripped his father's wand, and focused on controlling his breathing.

Hermione was running around like a mad thing, getting the last minute preparations for the Christmas party sorted, as well as working on her surprise for Theo.

Things had been so tense lately, more so as she had not stayed over as much this last week. She had been running around the Ministry arranging Portkeys, travel agents in the Muggle world to arrange accommodation on the remote and private island of Bonefish Cay.

Two weeks in the sun, with few people, and fewer worries; time for them to reconnect, and for Theo to not be looking over his shoulder the whole time or avoiding rooms in the house because of bad memories.

She was going to surprise him with the tickets after the Christmas party. She had reluctantly agreed to not celebrate Christmas at home or with others this year, other than the party which had already been planned. Theo had said he didn't want to celebrate.

She had wanted to argue but the few days leading up to that request had been filled with tension and anguish, so she decided to concede. She had told her parents they were going to have a quiet day, just the two of them. They were disappointed but understood.

She wasn't so sure they understood entirely where their friendly jovial son in law had gone however. Everyone was struggling with the recluse that was now her boyfriend. She found glimpses of that bright, happy, and confident man every now and again, but they had become less and less frequent since he had left the hospital.

She also couldn't work out whether she was the problem. He seemed to take one look at her these days, and a look would come across his face; it wasn't a look she liked. He would become angry, irrational, even moments after it crossed his face. If she didn't know better, she would have argued that he was possessed. She still wanted him to see a psychiatrist, but he wasn't having any of it.

Blaise and Ginny had been helping her arrange all the catering and drinks for the party. Harry had badgered Pansy into offering up her home as a venue for the party; it was perfect as there was space for everyone but also room for Theo to get some space if he needed it, which he wouldn't get many other places. She was grateful as there was no way it would have worked at Theo's house!

She glanced at her watch. It was eight thirty; another late one, and she still had another four people ahead of her in the queue to register for a Portkey. Did this Ministry ever close?!

A frisson of fear sparked through her. She should let Theo know she was going to stay at her flat tonight. She wondered if this would bother him. Last night, when she had arrived back late, he had queried where she had been. On the spot she had given a pretty lame excuse to cover that she had been mainly working on his surprise; even to her own ears, it had sounded poor. Not even twenty minutes later he had headed upstairs to bed. The bedroom door shutting behind him was a clear message she shouldn't join him.

She was sure he wouldn't miss her.

Theo was pacing the living room floor. He didn't like it in here anymore. The carpet may have been replaced, but he still knew where the bastard had clocked him one. It was like he could still see the pool of blood on the carpet where he had lain and felt it pooling around him.

She had been gone this morning when he had come downstairs, and she was still not back, no message, nothing.

Maybe she had stayed at her flat last night, rather than come back here. Merlin knew he was shit company. She had returned to his house late the other night with some poor excuse that Molly had had a fall and she went round to help as no one else was around.

Theo thought that to be very unlikely; she had seven children, for Merlin's sake!

He had watched her as she told him that and her eyes had avoided his. He knew she was lying. Why though? Why did she think being deceitful would help them in any way?

He knew he had been more than unreasonable of late, but he couldn't seem to shake off this paranoia that Hermione was involved. He had closed off even more from her and his friends. He didn't want to hear their pity, their false understanding of what he had been through. They had no idea.

He also hated that he couldn't get past it and go back to being himself. He didn't recognise himself anymore. His scarred face stared back at him in the mirror, and he was appalled at his appearance. He couldn't bring himself to shave, after the first time the razor had glinted in the bathroom light. His stubble had moved to almost a full beard. He hadn't had his hair cut; the thought of putting himself in the hands of someone with scissors... His hair, usually kept short and stylish, was limp, messy and not far off reaching his shoulders. Who knew hair could grow so quick.

Despite all this, she hadn't moaned at him once. She was so considerate, and yet he still treated her like she was the issue here. It was amazing she hadn't walked out on him. He was sure he deserved it!

But now, as he waited for her, those feelings he hated started to swarm over him once more. Was she plotting how to get rid of him for good this time? Had she attacked someone else?

As he listened to his own thoughts, he was sickened by them, but he couldn't stop them. It was now nearly eleven pm! Did she think he wouldn't be bothered? Angrily he took out his father's wand and with a quick incantation and a click, the locks changed on all the doors. Now she'd have to beg to be let in.

And in doing so, he'd demand to know where she had been.

The following morning, after a decent night's sleep, Hermione was back to Theo's, laden with shopping for both the party and for the fridge.

She tried the door, it was still locked. Putting the bags down, she fished out the key. It wouldn't turn.

She tried a few more times and then after checking the street for Muggles she went to Apparate in. There was a barrier, an Anti-Apparition charm and she was denied access.

"What the hell?"

With only one option left to her, she knocked on the door. A few moments later it opened. Her dishevelled boyfriend stood before her, a grimace on his face.

"Where have you been?" he grunted, his arms folded across his chest.

"Shopping," she said, pointing down towards the bags.

"And last night?"

"I decided to stay at mine, as it was late by the time I finished my jobs. I've been sorting things out for the party."

He stared at her as if he was working through this to decide whether he believed her or not.

"Why am I locked out?" she said quietly.

He stood silent for a moment, carefully picking his next words. "I'm going to keep changing them, you know? So it can't happen again." He gave her something that might have been a smile. "Here let me help you."

He pushed the door open wider and picked up some of the bags.

Hermione was unnerved. She was sure the locks had nothing to do with how he was feeling, safety wise. He had locked her out, plain and simple.