Madame Pomphrey came bustling out of her office at the sound of the door opening.
She didn't waste a single step, rushing to them immediately.
"Mr. Black," she exclaimed, taking him gently from Hermione's grasp, much to the girl's relief. "I told you not to go taxing your voice unnecessarily."
Perseus didn't respond, or perhaps he couldn't, as he was too busy coughing up more blood than Hermione had ever seen in her life.
Madame Pomphrey got him situated in the bed, before she moved briskly back to her office. She returned instantly with a vial full of a putrid green potion that Hermione swore she could smell from where she stood.
"Open up Mr. Black," the Mediwitch said, pouring the entire vial in his mouth as soon as it opened. "This will suppress your cough and soothe the irritation to your throat," she stepped back, watching him with a frown on her face. "Unfortunately there is still nothing I can do about the damage itself, Mr. Black. You will have to stay here for the night, so I can monitor the damage and make sure you don't irritate your throat once more."
She headed back to her office. She paused in the doorway to look back at Perseus, sparing Hermione a glance. "And absolutely no talking."
The door to her office closed with a quiet click, and Hermione rushed to Perseus' bed.
"Oh Perseus," she said, "what has happened to your throat?" She grabbed his right hand between her own, squeezing it gently. "I've always wondered, but I thought it would be rude of me to ask. But when you can talk again, we will be talking about this, do you understand me?"
Perseus merely nodded, looking down while his left hand gently massaged his throat. Hermione followed his gaze to where she held his hand. Blushing, she moved to pull away, only to stop when his hand latched on to her's. He shook his head at her, before resting it on his pillow.
His purple eyes were locked on her face, and no matter how much time she spent alone with him, she didn't think she'd ever adjust to the way he'd dedicate his entire attention to her.
"Honestly, Perseus," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "We have to stop ending up in the hospital wing like this."
Perseus' lips spread into a wide smile and his eyes squinted at her. Hermione had to stop herself from flinching at the red that stained his teeth. Apparently Madame Pomphrey had forgotten to vanish the blood in her haste to stop the bleeding.
Releasing his hand, she grabbed a small handkerchief from her inner robe pocket. It had been a gift from her father.
"Smile again, Perseus."
Though he looked confused, he didn't hesitate in offering her a forced smile, displaying his perfectly straight teeth in what looked more like a grimace than any sort of smile.
Gently, Hermione wiped the blood from his teeth using the handkerchief, just the way she'd seen her parents do in their practices. "There," she said, stuffing the now dirty handkerchief back into her robe. She was certain her father wouldn't be upset with her use of it. "Is it okay for you to drink water?"
Perseus nodded absently, his eyes fixated on the pocket where she had stuffed the blood covered cloth.
"Don't worry about it," she said, patting his hand. "I'm sure my father won't be too angry about it."
His eyes flickered to her's. He swallowed with a grimace, rubbing at his throat.
Hermione stood quickly, leaning over the bed. "Does it still hurt? Do you want me to get Madame Pomphrey?"
He shook his head, laying back in the bed. He grasped Hermione's hand, giving it a firm squeeze.
His eyes dropped under his heavy lids. Hermione was exhausted from the experience, she could only imagine how tired Perseus was.
She squeezed his hand in return before sliding her own free. "You get some rest, Perseus," she said, patting his leg. "I'll come see you before I leave for the Express, in case you're still in here."
Perseus gave her one last smile, just the smallest twist of his lips, but for Hermione, it was enough.
She hugged him as tightly as she dared given the current circumstances. "Get better, please," she whispered. "Or I'll have no one to read with."
A raspy chuckle escaped the boy, but was quickly followed by a hacking cough.
"Sorry!" she said, before turning and leaving as quickly as she could, in case Madame Pomphrey had heard the noise.
Closing the door gently behind her, she made her way back to the common room. Theories and ideas about what had happened to her friend's throat plagued her mind, but she had no clue. For all she knew, it could be some magical illness she knew absolutely nothing about!
Quickly changing her course, Hermione headed to the library. This dilemma wasn't going to solve itself.
Perseus didn't manage to see Hermione again before they boarded the Express for the summer.
He'd been using his recent stay in the hospital wing as an excuse to not speak to anyone. Hermione was really the only person he'd have bothered to talk to anyway.
He sat in a compartment on the train and stared out the window in silence, watching the Scottish Highlands hurtle pass.
"How did you beat the mudblood know-it-all for the number one spot in our class?"
It took Perseus a moment to realize it was him being addressed.
He turned away from the window, and looked at the people he was sharing a compartment with. The very, very , few Slytherins he could tolerate.
It was Theo Nott that had posed the question, his nasally voice unmistakable. And it was him amongst the group that Perseus liked the least.
Blaise Zabini, Tracey Davis, and Daphne Greengrass all looked on expectantly, though Daphne did so with a roll of her icy blue eyes.
Of all of the Slytherins, she was by far his favorite.
Perseus shook his head, the twisting strands of his hair swaying where they hung just passed his chin.
He hadn't spoken in nearly two days, his first words certainly wouldn't be to Theodore Nott.
"Well? How'd you do it?" said Blaise, his Italian accent rolling off his tongue.
Perseus continued to stare out the window, pondering the question.
The answer was simple, really. Hermione was better at knowing, than doing. While she was still very good at performing the spells in class, perhaps the second best in their class, she couldn't quite compete with him. Her three attempts to perform a spell was always second to his one, not that she really had any chance.
Of course there were some exceptions. She outperformed him vastly in potions, and in a few years when they started taking classes like Runes and Arithmancy, he was sure she'd outperform him handily. When it came to following directions and picking up new information, she was just much smarter than him. Anything that required a wand however, he doubted Hermione would ever surpass him. Perhaps one day she'd be his equal.
That thought made him want to smile.
"Come on, Perseus, don't leave us hanging," said Daphne, amusement clear in her eyes.
Perseus sighed. "I'm better at practical than her. She's better at theory, but practical is more important in core classes."
Theo scoffed. "There's no way the mudblood is better at magic than me."
Perseus had to stop himself from glaring at the boy. He really didn't like when people called Hermione that word. "Theo, you were 11th. Of the 10 people in front of you, half of them were half-bloods or muggleborn."
Theo's lip curled in disgust. "Why do you always defend them? Are you some type of blood traitor?"
Perseus stood from his seat and swept silently to the door.
"Where are you going?"
He didn't bother giving Daphne a reply, instead choosing to slide the door to the compartment open and head down the hallway, not bothering to close it.
He didn't know where he was going, but he wandered aimlessly down the corridor.
He stopped just in time to avoid colliding with a head of bushy brown hair that he would recognize anywhere.
As the smell of cinnamon and vanilla flooded his senses, he could feel the tension draining from his body.
"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed, taking a step back.
Her face was flushed and Perseus could see in her face the remnants of her anger.
As strong as Hermione was, Perseus had learned that she was still an eleven year old girl, and was quite sensitive.
Why she was friends with a boy that had the couth and tact of a niffler was beyond him.
He hadn't asked more than once, after receiving a rather terse response. Hermione had told him about her childhood, and he imagined she was willing to take just about any friends she could get, even if it meant doing their homework and being insulted for who she was.
The boy was luckily Hermione cared about him even the least, or Perseus would've ensured some manner of misfortune befell the boy.
With Hermione and he being so close however, it was almost inevitable that whatever he planned would get her caught in it as well, and no amount of revenge was worth that.
"I apologize, Miss Granger," Perseus said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I was in a bit of a rush to get to the loo."
While it wasn't the most clear hint, Hermione never struggled to catch them.
"Of course," she said, beaming at him, her two large front teeth pointing right at him.
Perseus had to stop himself from shaking his head. The girl wouldn't understand subtly if it slapped her in the face. Staring at him as though he'd just hit her with a cheering charm was not expected behavior of two people who hardly knew each other.
He stepped into the compartment that housed the bathrooms, waiting patiently for Hermione to make her way to him.
They'd developed a routine very early into their clandestine friendship.
She, or he, would wait at least 5 minutes before following the other to whatever meeting spot they had planned. And if the other hadn't arrived within ten minutes, assume they couldn't manage to slip away.
Perseus looked up from his pocket watch when the door to the compartment slid open, and Hermione's familiar form slipped in, sliding the door shut behind her.
She jabbed her wand at the door. "Colloportus."
Perseus blinked. He hadn't noticed that before. Hermione was dressed in a muggle pair of pants and a shirt. He was so used to seeing her dressed in her robes, the muggle look was completely unfamiliar to him.
"What are you wearing?" he said slowly.
"What do you mean?" Hermione said, looking down at her outfit self-consciously. "What's wrong with it? It's just jeans and a shirt."
He'd never even seen a muggle before, let alone questioned what they might wear. It never occurred to him that they'd wear anything other than robes. Though he supposed he should've. Even back home in Milan, the witches and wizards did not frequently wear robes. They'd taken to wearing something he learned was called a suit , much to his Aunt's disdain. He found himself deeply attracted to the style, though if it was for any reason more than to spite his Aunt, he couldn't be sure. He thought it made the men look rather sophisticated, and looked a bit like dress robes if they were actually comfortable.
Perseus shook his head, realizing he must sound like one of the blood purists he despised. "Sorry Hermione," he said, his raspy voice almost a whisper. "There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing, it just surprised me, is all."
Looking her over once more, he couldn't help but admit the look suited her much better than robes ever did. "Actually, it looks really nice."
Hermione dropped her head in an attempt to hide the flaming of her cheeks, but Perseus saw it anyway.
"Thank you," she murmured. "Now," she said assertively, all traces of her blush gone. "I won't have you telling me what's wrong with your throat through a letter. That just won't do."
Perseus stared back into her intense chocolate gaze. He knew from the set of her jaw she wouldn't leave without learning everything he had to offer. It had been a foolish hope to think that she'd forgotten.
He started with a sigh. "I have been learning magic since I was four," he said, much to Hermione's shock and obvious appall. "My Aunt told me that to be a member of the Founding House of Black was to be royalty, and as the Heir, I was the crown Prince."
Hermione frowned, but nodded for him to continue.
"So in her opinion, the rules did not apply to us," Perseus paused, preparing himself for what he was about to say. Hermione was prone to strong reactions when it involved him. "Have you ever wondered how I learn spells so fast in class?" Hermione nodded. "When I was a boy, my Aunt would curse me every time I failed to perform a spell."
Hermione's gasp of horror was not unexpected, nor was the way her hand squished his own. "Perseus that's horrible! There's no way you can go back with that monster , you just can't!"
Perseus shook his head rapidly, pulling her closer to him. "You can't tell anyone, Hermione."
Hermione pulled away from him sharply, tears in her eyes. "And why not? She can't keep doing this to you, Perseus! That horrible, ungodly-"
Perseus crushed Hermione to his chest, hugging her harder than he ever had before. She let out a squeak, her own arms coming up to hold him.
While fundamentally he knew what his Aunt did to him was wrong, it meant more than he could describe that his best friend felt the same. It quelled every question he'd ever had of, maybe I deserve this? If I'd just gotten the spell right faster, she wouldn't have cursed me.
He'd never had anyone care enough to be angry on his behalf, and he'd never cherished any person more than the one he held now.
A single year, she'd taught him more about life than he'd ever known.
"Thank you, Hermione," he said, voice even raspier than usual.
She squeezed him tighter, and by the shaking of her body, he could tell she was crying into his chest.
"You have to let me handle this," he said.
Hermione pulled away from him, staring up at him with bloodshot eyes.
He stared back, fully prepared for the argument he knew was coming.
Hermione let out a king puff of air.
"Okay."
Perseus blinked in surprise, but Hermione had already buried her head back in his chest.
"That's it then? Okay?"
She nodded. "I trust you, Perseus. If you say you need to handle it, okay."
Perseus didn't know what to say. Just a few weeks prior, he hadn't offered her that same trust. He had assumed, perhaps not incorrectly, because she was a muggleborn that she didn't know what she was getting herself into.
He was disgusted with himself. He'd thought himself better than his peer, to be without prejudice, but clearly he was wrong.
"I'm sorry, Hermione."
Hermione pulled back to look at him, confusion in her eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't trust you about the stone, and I'm sorry I ignored you for so long."
Hermione shook her head at him. "You already apologized for that Perseus, and I already forgave you."
Perseus simply nodded. He could think of nothing else to say.
Hermione finally released him, moving to the door. "I have to get back, or my friends may come looking for me."
Perseus eyed her doubtfully. Never once had they been even almost discovered by her so-called friends. He didn't think they'd start looking for her now, all of the sudden.
"And also," she said wryly, "what you should've apologized for, is cheating to beat me for #1 spot in our year!"
Perseus' jaw dropped.
"Alohomora," she said with a flick of her wand, and the door was unlocked.
"Don't think it will help you next year. That #1 spot is mine!" she said fiercely, before quietly slipping out of the compartment.
Perseus stared at the door slid shut behind her.
After everything he'd said, that's what she was concerned about?
Hermione stepped off the train, her trunk trailing behind her as she followed Harry and Ron to his parents, which consisted of two older red-heads, and a freckle-faced, red-head little girl.
Hermione shook her head. Even after being friends with the boy for nearly a year, she had no clue he had a little sister.
"Ron!" his mother exclaimed, practically swallowing the boy in her larger frame.
"Harry," his father said, reaching out to shake his hand.
Hermione rolled her eyes as the girl turned the brightest shade of red a human could possibly turn when she looked at Harry and quickly hid behind her father.
Looking around, Hermione spotted Perseus with an elderly woman that could only be his aunt.
They had the same pitch black hair, high cheekbones and heavy lidded eyes. Even as old as the woman appeared, Hermione was sure she could've been a model at some point in her life.
As if he could feel her gaze, Perseus turned his head, making eye contact with her.
His aunt laid a hand gently on his shoulder, far too gently for the monster that she was. With a barest quirk of his lips and the slightest squint of his eyes, he disappeared with a twist and a crack.
Hermione closed her eyes. She hoped Perseus would be okay. She'd write to him no matter what.
"Oi, Hermione!"
She turned around, looking at Ron.
"This is me mum," he said, jerking a thumb at the lady behind him.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she said politely. She began to hold her hand out to shake, before she remembered what Perseus had told her, and dropped it to her side.
Before she knew it, she was being squeezed in a vice, her face crushed in the woman's massive bosom.
"Nice to meet you Hermione, dear," the woman said, though Hermione could just barely hear her.
With a bit of a struggle she extricated herself from the woman.
With a nod to Ron and a quick hug to Harry, she headed to the barrier, where she knew her parents waited for her on the other side.
Already, she was planning a trip to Flurish and Blotts.
If she was to be of any help to Perseus at all, she'd need more information.
