Harry couldn't think straight. He didn't even know where they were after he'd pulled Hermione to his chest and Disapparated, but there were trees he didn't recognize, and Hermione was unconscious, but still breathing, miraculously, which was all he cared about. There was no time for the tent. He was drenched in the blood spilling from her shoulder, and he had to swallow down the urge to vomit. He wiped the tears from his eyes and forced himself to focus, otherwise she'd bleed out. He tore the remaining pieces of her shirt away and tossed them to the ground, letting out a whimper - it looked even worse under her clothes.

"A-Ac… Accio dittany." He pulled the cap off and didn't even bother with the dropper, emptying the full contents over the wounds. When she didn't even react, Harry became more concerned - he knew it hurt like hell. But she was still breathing, though shallowly. What else did he need? Werewolf injuries were different. The scratches didn't seem to be closing quickly enough to save her. "Fuck! Uh… Accio silver!" he finally remembered. "Accio blood replenisher." Shaky hands unscrewed the jar of silver powder and sprinkled it liberally over Hermione's shoulder. She still didn't wake up, but it seemed to stop the bleeding. He barely even knew what he was doing, but it was working. When everything seemed to stabilize a bit and the bleeding slowed, his heart rate lowered. He slid his own shirt and sweater over his head and quickly wrapped the shirt the best he could around her shoulder and tying it to put some steady pressure on it. Then, he took the top off one of the blood replenisher potions and parted her lips to pour it into her mouth, grateful when she swallowed. He gave her another one, just for good measure, and the color seemed to return to her face and chest. But he knew in just a bra, which he didn't want to mess with, she'd freeze. It was still intact, just soaked in blood. He took the sweater he'd been wearing and carefully, ever so carefully, slid it over her head and torso. At least she'd be a little warmer while he set up the tent. She seemed to be stable and breathing a little deeper, so he figured he should let the potions take effect, set up the tent, get her to bed, and get warm. He could already feel his fingers going numb and his lungs struggling as the cold air seemed to constrict his bare chest. His hands were covered in blood, as were his pants and shoes - he'd have to burn it all so there wouldn't be a trace.

He made the smallest enchantment dome he possibly could, not taking Hermione out of sight. The large red stain in the snow, along with empty vials and ripped clothes, still made his stomach lurch. As soon as the tent was up, he started a larger fire in an empty cauldron and carefully lifted Hermione into his arms. She was still warm, which was a good sign - her color was back, too. But her clothes. All of them were soaked and starting to stiffen with coagulation. It wouldn't be good for her to stay in them, and he really needed to clean her up. Her shoulder wasn't bleeding too much anymore, so he figured it would be fine to keep her in the sweater for now, but the smell of everything else was starting to get to him. He laid her down on the bed, and figuring it was best to just suffer the consequences later in favor of making her comfortable now, Harry fished through Hermione's bag for at least a change of pants for her and a pair of warm socks.

Fine in theory, and cleaning off her feet with "Tergeo" was no issue, but his hands wouldn't stop fidgeting as he stared at her. He could do this. If she was conscious, it would have been better, but she wasn't. What if she felt that he'd violated her? But there wasn't really any other way to do this, not that he knew of. He took a deep breath before moving to her head. "Hermione," he began, just in case she could hear him, "I'm going to change your pants, okay? They're covered in blood, so they're not going to be very comfortable. But that's all."

That made him feel a little better - at least subconsciously, she may have known. He wiped his hands on his own pants to dry them before slowly popping open the button on hers and sliding the zipper down. God, what was he doing? The quicker he moved, the quicker it would be over with. It took him a few minutes to peel the fabric from her skin, and he groaned when he saw her underwear drenched in blood as well. He didn't know any clothes cleaning spells, and he wasn't going to risk anything while they were on her, so she'd have to take care of those whenever she woke up. He cleaned up her legs and slid the pajama pants, lifting her hips a little to pull them all the way up, and finished off with the socks. At least she looked a lot better, and warmer. He shivered again, only then realizing he hadn't put clothes back on either. Harry pulled a change of clothes from Hermione's bag and quickly put them on in the bathroom in case she woke up while he was changing.

She was still sleeping when he came back out, so he just pulled a blanket over her and headed back outside to grab the bag of potion supplies they managed to obtain, very intentionally avoiding looking at the mess. He set it down on the kitchen table, setting it out so Hermione would know what they had. He spent a couple hours reading with the fire crackling in the background, but it wasn't very helpful with him being distracted and looking over to Hermione every few seconds. It was too quiet, and he felt like he was alone. Utterly alone. He didn't even feel like eating dinner without her, and when he felt his eyes getting heavy, he crawled into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her.

When Hermione woke up, everything hurt. The last thing she remembered was fur - a werewolf. Death Eaters… the apothecary… Harry.

"Harry!" She shot up and winced as a jolt of pain shot from her shoulder to her fingertips. She couldn't move too much. But it was warm.

"Hermione, hey, hey… you're awake. It's okay. I'm right here," Harry whispered. "Don't move too much. Your shoulder-"

"What happened?" she panted, clinging to Harry's form like a lifeline. "We… did I get… bit?"

"No, no," Harry sighed, rubbing her back soothingly. "You didn't get bit. Just scratched, but you lost a lot of blood."

Hermione took a few minutes to process everything. She remembered Harry shouting spells and her telling him to Apparate, but that was it. "How long was I out?"

"Almost a day. We got most of the supplies we went for. Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she suddenly realized, looking down at her hand, grateful that she could move her fingers, though it wasn't without difficulty. "You saved my life, Harry."

"Of course I did. Thanks to you. If you hadn't taught me all those things, I…" He shook his head as he stood from the bed. "I don't even want to think about it."

"You used… an Unforgivable curse, didn't you?"

Harry nodded. "I knew it was the only thing that could get through their shields."

"And… and the werewolf?"

"I think I killed it." It came out strained, and Hermione knew it was because Harry was fully aware that there was a person inside that monster who couldn't help themselves, who didn't know what they were doing, who had lost control under the pressure of the Death Eaters.

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, how Harry was feeling about having killed for her, or the fact that he'd had to spend almost an entire day not sure if she would wake up, but emotions were probably running high and now wasn't the time to talk about it. She slowly moved to sit up properly, breathing through the tightness in her shoulder. She knew she needed to stretch it while it healed, but she knew it could have been much worse if Harry hadn't known what to do. A hand ran through her hair as she looked over the rest of herself. She was wearing different clothes. A dark blush crept up to her ears as she thought about Harry changing her.

"These aren't the clothes I was wearing, Harry," she whispered, looking over to him as he prepared a plate of food to warm up.

"I… I only changed your shirt and pants," he promised. "Your shirt was ripped to pieces and your… your bra is still intact and I… I didn't touch anything else. So you'll need to change those, but I didn't want to…"

"Thank you, Harry. I appreciate it. Really." She swung her legs to the side with a small groan.

"Hermione, don't overdo it…" He moved towards her to try to help her up.

"I'm fine, just… I need to go to the loo." She latched onto his arm and accepted his support to stand, making sure she was stable before letting go. "Thanks."

"Sure. You can walk there okay?"

Hermione nodded, but Harry stayed close just in case she needed help. When the door closed behind her, he sighed and went back to the kitchen to finish dinner. He'd barely eaten anything since they got back, so he was starving, too.

Part of her didn't want to see it. She'd seen Lupin and Bill; she knew what werewolf scars looked like, and her whole shoulder was sore. Harry said her shirt was ripped to pieces, and she was scared to see how bad it was. But she had to. She needed to see it, but when she tried to lift her arm, it hurt too much to pull the sweater off fully. A huff of frustration left her lips, and she decided to just go to the bathroom like she planned. At least it wasn't her dominant arm. She definitely needed to change her underwear, but just going to the bathroom was taking a lot out of her, so she pulled them back up for the time being and resolved to take a proper shower (as much as she could) after she ate.

By the time she came out of the bathroom, Harry had made two plates of food and two mugs of tea that were sitting on the kitchen table. He was standing between the table and the bathroom, ready to help if she needed it, but not wanting to hover.

"How bad was it?" she finally asked as she made her way to the table and sat down.

"Um… it didn't look as bad when the bleeding stopped as it did at first, but there's definitely going to be some scarring. I tied my shirt over it to keep pressure on it after most of it stopped, but I used a whole bottle of dittany, some of our silver, and two bottles of blood replenisher," Harry explained.

"Wow." Hermione ran a hand over her face slowly before reaching for a plate and starting to eat. "I can't really lift my arm all the way so you might have to, um… help me change." Harry's eyes widened a little. "At least maybe just my shirt and… well, I'm not going to ask you to put my bra on for me, so maybe after we get it off, I'll just…"

Harry had sat across from her, his eyes on his food as she spoke. Helping Ron change was one thing, but Hermione… He was still amazed that she was sitting here in front of him, eating as if nothing had happened. But the sight of her covered in blood, himself covered in her blood, the snowy spot outside he knew was there but refused to revisit. He couldn't do that again. He couldn't go through that. He had to protect her at all costs.

"Harry?" Her voice brought him back, and there was a frown on her face. "Are you all right?"

"Am I all right? Seriously? Hermione, you were bleeding out not eighteen hours ago and you're asking me if I'm all right?"

"Yes."

Hermione's abruptness took Harry aback a little. He'd expected more of an answer from her, but no, she was sincerely asking him how he was doing. "No, I'm not," he admitted. "I just feel like you're going to fall apart any second or that you died and I'm dreaming or something."

She reached over and took his hand softly. "I'm here and you're here, okay? I'm… okay. I'm not fine. I'm hurting and I'm sure I'll have something I need to work through once it kicks in, but… you saved me, Harry. I'm here because of you. I'm alive because of you. You didn't leave my side, did you?"

"No, I didn't."

Hermione just grinned, standing and moving around the table to kiss him. His worry seemed to melt away into her. "There. Now do you believe I'm okay? It could have been worse."

"But it was supposed to be a quick trip."

"Harry, we knew the risks. I didn't think it would be easy. Diagon Alley was one of the most dangerous places we could have gone."

"I know." Harry pushed his food around on the plate. "I just feel like if we can't even handle two Death Eaters-"

"Harry, are you kidding me? You took down two Death Eaters and a werewolf by yourself. Give yourself some more credit, okay? If you can spend months hyping me up, let me do the same for you. Please."

"I was lucky."

"Maybe you were. But does it matter if it was luck or skill? You knew what to do for me. Just let me tell you how good of a job you did for once," she insisted.

"Fine," Harry huffed. "But just this once. I'm not letting you off that easy. Maybe your injuries have gone to your head."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Just don't ever pretend you're not capable, Harry." Her eyes looked down at the plate she pulled across the table towards her again to continue eating, and Harry could tell something was off. Based on her words, he could tell exactly what it was: her fears of being helpless had some to fruition. She'd been at the mercy of Harry's skill, and she hated it. She was proud of him, yes, but he'd have to make sure she didn't push herself too much in recovery. They couldn't go to Godric's Hollow until she was fully healed with full strength and movement of that arm, otherwise they'd end up worse.

She'd talk about it when she was ready, but he knew she was trying to focus on the fact that she was indeed alive and her shoulder (they hoped) wasn't as bad as it could have been. They finished dinner in silence before Harry remembered something.

"Oh! Hermione! I found another one of those symbols like the one in Beedle the Bard," he said, standing to search for the book. He went to the middle of the tent, pointing and muttering to himself as he seemed to be retracing his steps. Hermione smiled at him softly before he remembered the book where it was next to the beds. "Ah!" He flipped through it for a few seconds, then sat down next to Hermione. "Look. In Rita Skeeter's book, she included a letter Dumbledore wrote to Gellert Grindelwald. Look how he signed it."

Hermione hummed. "So… Beedle the Bard and Dumbledore's letter. It has to be some kind of secret code. And… you said you saw it where?"

"Luna's dad was wearing it at the wedding."

"Oh, that's right. So whatever it is, he's got to be in on it. We should probably go see him at some point, too. It has to mean something, and it might be a clue."

Harry sighed. "Hermione, we just… got back and-"

"Yes, Harry, I know we can't go anywhere now. You don't need to remind me, okay?" she snapped. "I'm just making a list of potential places we need to visit. And you still want to go to Godric's Hollow, right?"

"Of course."

"Well, you're not going alone. I'd like to be able to have full mobility before we go throwing ourselves into dangerous situations, too. I'm not stupid."

"I never said you were, Hermione, I just care about you."

Hermione's head fell onto his shoulder slowly, and she took his hand. "I'm sorry, Harry, I'm just frustrated at myself. I should have been more careful."

"There was nothing else you could have done. You made sure we were alone when we went in - they just… knew we were there. And we weren't expecting a werewolf."

"Yeah, how did they know we were there? And…" she picked her head up, "you looked like you. But it hadn't been an hour and I'm positive I brewed it correctly."

"They must have put some sort of enchantments on it or alarms. To erase any disguises and warn them when someone came in. They must have known we'd need to go eventually."

"I want to see my shoulder, Harry," she muttered. "Do you think you could…"

"Oh… sure." His mind was racing with all the ways this could be awkward or go wrong, but he stood anyway. He'd have to get over himself; he could deal with seeing some skin. "You can change that into a button-down, too, so it's easier to get on and off."

"That would help a lot, actually," Hermione replied as they made their way to the bathroom. It was cramped with both of them in there, but with as close as they'd been lately, it wasn't that uncomfortable. She quickly transfigured the sweater into a cardigan and undid the buttons, gasping a little as Harry slid it over her shoulders. The shirt was still tied around the injury, but it didn't look like there was too much more blood on it than what had seeped through. What she hadn't expected, though, was the state of her bra. She knew Harry said it was bloody, but the shock at actually seeing it was a different story. She assumed he'd cleaned her skin off after she warmed up, but without removing her bra, there was only so much he could do.

"Do you want me to take off the bandage?"

Hermione nodded, and Harry untied the rudimentary knot he'd made, shocked that his state of panic had allowed him to make something usable. Four jagged red scars looked back at Hermione in the mirror, making their way from almost her collar bone, across her shoulder, and down her arm, nearly to the elbow. The shirt hadn't covered all of it, but she could tell the worst part, where the wounds were thickest, was on her shoulder. No wonder she hadn't been able to use it. If Harry was being honest, it was a relief to see the scabs and scars compared to the injuries. She reached up with her good hand to run her fingers over the skin, her eyes prickling with tears. Those were going to be there forever. Her eyes flicked up to meet Harry's, who was looking at her sympathetically.

It was a miracle her bra was still intact at all, though she knew she was lucky that it had just been her shoulder and not her breasts. This would be a little harder to conceal, but she knew they would fade over time. That didn't stop her from turning to Harry and wrapping her arms around him tightly, burying her face into his neck. He held her as long as she needed, enjoying the closeness and warmth that she could reciprocate; cuddling an unconscious body wasn't quite the same.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes before taking a deep breath. "Okay, I think… we need to get my bra off, so… I'll turn around and hold it up if you'll unclasp it…" Nothing about Hermione's intention was making it awkward for him to think about, and of course he wouldn't make it weird, but he never expected this to be the first scenario in which he took off a girl's bra. Well, second, technically, but the first one had been on himself.

It took them a few seconds to maneuver themselves into a position where Harry wouldn't be able to see in the mirror if anything slipped, but eventually, Hermione raised an arm to hold the front up and turned back to Harry. "All right. Just… well, I'm sure you can figure it out," she grinned.

Harry smiled, too, and it only took a couple seconds for him to get it undone and the band to fall to the side. "You can get the cardigan on yourself, right?"

"Yeah, I should be able to. Thank you." She turned to him with a smile. "I'll let you know if I need any more help." Harry nodded and swiftly left the bathroom.

Hermione emerged a couple minutes later and went immediately to her bag to grab some more clothes before heading into the bathroom again. It took a little longer this time as the shower ran for a little bit, but she came back out with a bundle, sticking it back into the bag.

"Feel better?" Harry asked softly.

"Loads. Thank you for helping me."

"Of course." She sat down on the loveseat next to him, leaning into his side.

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that, Harry. And I'm sorry you're having to do all this for me."

"Hermione, I'll do anything for you. Whatever it takes to keep you safe and make you comfortable and help you heal. Anything. No question."

"I think I want to learn Sectumsempra. I don't like it, but… after seeing what it can do and knowing you used it to save my life, I could return the favor if I need to." She paused briefly, pursing her lips. "Did you… feel anything? When you used the Cruciatus curse? I've read some accounts of people who do, like a heaviness on their soul or something."

Harry thought back to it. He was so worried about Hermione that he hadn't really been paying attention, but nothing seemed different now. "I… I don't think so. Should I be worried?"

"Oh, I'm sure it's all psychological," Hermione was quick to answer, though she didn't seem convinced. "I don't think it means something's wrong. You were probably just preoccupied with saving me that you didn't think about the repercussions of using an Unforgivable."

"That's not the first time I've used it, Hermione." He felt her tense up next to him. "After Bellatrix killed Sirius, I… chased after her and used it on her. Or, I think I did. I'm not entirely sure it worked, because she barely even flinched, but I don't remember feeling anything then, either."

"Like I said, it's probably just speculation, so I wouldn't think too much about it, Harry."

But now he couldn't help it. Could it have been from wearing the horcrux at the time? Could it have been that his soul was already heavy from that, so the curse didn't make much of a difference? Or was there some other darkness in him that using an Unforgivable curse didn't affect?

When he went to bed that night, he was still thinking about it. Did it have anything to do with the fact that he could hear it when he took it off? Would he be able to hear the others?

"Harry, I can hear you thinking from down here," Hermione's voice came softly from the bunk below. "I didn't mean to worry you, honestly. I was just curious if it was true or not."

He thought about pretending he was asleep, but he knew Hermione wouldn't buy it; if he'd learned anything from the time they'd spent together, it was that he couldn't lie to her - books weren't the only things she could read well. "It's just got me thinking about other things, that's all."

"Well, your soul shouldn't be one of them. You're not turning into him. Haven't you noticed that the locket has barely affected us lately?" She wasn't wrong. Even if he was wearing it for days on end, since he hadn't taken it off since before they left for Diagon Alley, he was pretty well able to keep his emotions in check.

"Could it be because he's getting weaker? Maybe taking this long to find me is wearing him out."

"I think it's because we have something that's… overpowering it."

Harry stared at the ceiling of the tent. Could their relationship really be stronger than Voldemort? He chuckled a little at the thought. "So you're saying as long as we're snogging on a daily basis, it's keeping him at bay?"

Hermione let out a snort of laughter Harry had never heard before. "Not that exactly, but similar concept, I suppose. Are you complaining?"

"Not at all. Are you?"

"Not at all."

"Well, we haven't done today's yet," he teased with a yawn.

"Come down here, then."

She didn't expect him to nearly jump down from the top bunk, but scooted over towards the wall with a laugh. "You're ridiculous."

"You weren't serious?"

"Not entirely…"

Harry looked at her for a moment before a smirk came over his face. "You called me down here just to cuddle? Are you sure you're not still feeling bad?" He leaned over to put his hand on her forehead, which she slapped away.

"Shut up. I just… it's comforting. You sleeping here with me. I feel safe."

"I can't say no to that." He easily crawled under the covers with her, making sure to be careful of her arm as she laid on her chest with her arm draped over his stomach. It had been more nights than not lately where Hermione would fall asleep like this, listening to his heartbeat. It was much warmer like this anyway, so he wasn't complaining. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She picked up her head to kiss him softly. "Goodnight, Harry," she whispered before settling back down onto his chest and closing her eyes.