Chapter 15

The next few weeks passed without incident. She had pulled away so much that they were hardly speaking again, and her nightmares kept them up throughout the night. She'd gone back to her own bed and he'd taken up his position in her doorway once more.

"Theo..." She turned to him over breakfast, her steaming cup of tea clenched between her fingers. "I feel like we need to clear the air." She'd finally grown the courage to bring it up; the more they ignored it, the more embarrassed she felt that he regretted kissing her. Why would he want her? She was so broken that what was there for him to want? She hated the awkwardness, hated herself for causing it, and missed the easy comfort they had grown accustomed to.

"Yeah," he took the seat opposite her, cradling his own drink.

She shuffled, uncomfortably in her seat, "I'm sorry for kissing you. I was caught up in the moment and I just felt so alive... and you were being so lovely, I just wanted to share that moment with you."

In typical Slytherin fashion, he'd ingored the problem and been too cowardly to confront her. It had started to feel like she was going to ignore him forever, so, when she'd spoken he'd been caught off guard. He reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together. She looked like she wanted to pull away but didn't, "It's okay, love. We just got caught up in the moment. It was a mistake and we are better as friends." He wasn't sure if he imagined the crestfallen look that swept across her face before being covered with a weak smile. The words tasted like ashes on his tongue, he hated saying them, but it was for the best. Harry would murder him if anything were to happen and it would only end in pain for Hermione.

"Exactly," She whispered. She wanted to tell him she missed him, so badly, but she didn't.

Dropping her hand back to the table, he stood and pulled on his jacket, "I have an appointment this morning, I have to go. I'll see you tonight, love?" She nodded, but didn't say anything, instead playing with her fingers and staring at her mug. "Have a nice day." He turned and left.

Hermione felt a small tear drip down her cheek. Why was she crying? She was being ridiculous. Theo was right; what was she thinking letting herself daydream that they could eventually find some semblance of happiness together. She was crazy to have kissed him. She was being stupid letting her emotions grow to attachment, but she didn't know how to stop it. If she was being honest with herself, knowing the door to something more was closed completely for Theo made her heart ache slightly.

She hugged her arms around herself, what an idiot to have let this happen. When he'd first moved in, she'd made it clear to Theo that she didn't see them heading in that direction, and he obviously didn't want to go there either. Somwehre along the way, she'd developed a whole host of confusing feelings for him, that she couldn't even unpick herself. What a mess.


Hermione had continued to sleep in her own bed. As much as she wanted to go back to Theo and let him hold and comfort her, after their discussion over breakfast the day before she was too embarrassed. She tossed and turned, after her nightmare woke her.

The dreams had come back with a vengeance, Death Eaters constantly circling her mind. The newest face to appear was that of Dolohov, the evil, disgusting face hovering over her as his dirty nails drew over her skin. There had been a moment in the final battle where he'd found her, cornered her, wrestled her to the ground when she tried to run past him, his sour breath spitting insults as he reached for her wand.

She'd escaped death by the skin of her teeth, thanks to someone casting a sectumsempra curse on him from afar. She remembered that he'd bled out on top of her, the life leaving his eyes as his face fell against hers. She hadn't even screamed, the feeling of his heavy body on hers, the heavy weight, the sticky feel of the pool of his blood surrounding them, the fact that she was alone, trapped under him, her saviour nowhere to be seen as they were swept up in the heat of the battle, stunning her to silence. Her tears had mingled with the blood and she shook, her mouth open in a silent wail.

That moment, the fear, the feeling of being at someone's mercy, being trapped and alone, waiting for death, was hard to escape. She hated reliving it over and over; she hated waking up, her mouth open and throat hoarse with her screams, she hated not having Theo's hand to hold. How she had arrived at this point, she did not know.

She lay there, staring at the ceiling, wondering if she was going mad.