Authors Note: Rotten Writer, here again boys and girls.

So... as a little Thank You, guys, for all the great responses to this story, I've decided to give you a short and quick little update a bit early this week. As of writing this note this story is sitting with 104 Reviews; 292 Favorites; and 543 Followers.

I'm blown away. Seriously.

You guys are awesome and I'm doing my best to keep bringing you updates every Tuesday.

So, here's a little fun and some warm fuzzies for you guys, Enjoy.

Soul Scars

by,

Rtnwriter

"How exactly did I get dragged into this, again?" Harry asked, biting back the urge to sigh out of pure exasperation.

"He called you out! How could you not want to take the little ponce down?"

"Well, maybe since I dislocated my shoulder a few hours ago and I'm not supposed to do anything strenuous for the next week? Oh, and there are three girls that would absolutely kill me if they found out I let you talk me into this."

"But Harry, you can't just turn down a wizards duel. Not with Malfoy. Think of the opportunity to knock him on his arse."

"Yeah, I did that on the train ride from Kings Cross, no problems. And I didn't have to duel him to do it, Weasely."

"It's Ron, Harry. Come on, we're friends aren't we?"

"You've barely said ten words to me until today."

"Well, friendships have to start somewhere."

"Like jumping in and accepting this duel on my behalf without asking me or having even spoken to me before hand?" Harry glared at the lanky red head as they reached the bottom of the dorm room stairs and started for the portrait hole. It was a half hour to midnight, and Harry was still trying to puzzle out just why he was going along with this.

"Er- sorry about that. I didn't think."

"Obviously." Harry finally gave in and heaved out a huge sigh. "Look I'm really not sure this is a great idea. I agree with you, in principal. It would be losing face and just encouraging Malfoy to cause more trouble to not show up for the duel. But I'm still not really sure about this." He reached out and pushed the portrait open and they clambered outside. They hadn't made it ten feet when a voice spoke up behind them.

"Harry James Potter, I know you're not going to meet Malfoy for that stupid duel."

"Told you," Harry muttered to Ron and turned slowly to face an obviously irate Hermione Granger. She was wearing a pink bathrobe and had her arms crossed over her chest, a disapproving glare leveled directly at him. "You heard Madam Pomfrey," she snapped. "Do you want to do yourself more damage? And if you two go sneaking around in the middle of the night you're going to get caught, and you're going to lose points for Gryffindor."

"Nobody asked you to stick your nose in it, Granger," Ron snapped. "Just go back to the common room and leave us alone."

"Hey!" Harry rounded on Ron. "I won't put up with that kind of shite from Malfoy and I really won't put up with it from you, Weasely. You say you want to be my friend? Well, you dont talk like that to my other friends, get me?" The look on his face told Ron that Harry was serious and he nodded dumbly, stammering an apology. "Don't tell me," Harry snapped and flung out his good arm to point toward Hermione, "I'm not the one you were just a total arse to. Tell her."

"Sorry, Hermione," he muttered.

She gave a disdainful sniff but didn't say anything else. Harry noticed though, that when her eyes turned to him her gaze was considerably softer.

Until he opened his mouth again and said, "that all being said, I do have to go, Hermione. You should get back to bed, no reason for you to lose anymore sleep."

And there's that angry glare again, he thought as her eyes hardened.

"I have to, Hermione," he cut her off before she could get going. "You know how I feel about bullies."

She glared at him for a few moments longer while Ron fidgeted in place and kept glancing at his watch. Finally she let out an explosive sigh and nodded. "Fine," she muttered. "But I'm coming with you."

Before either of them could say anything she brushed past them and continued on her way down the corridor, heading in the direction of the trophy room. Ron and Harry hastened to catch up with her, neither of them wanting to risk saying anything that might set her off so they simply walked along in silence.

"What's that?" Hermione said a minute later, pointing to a dark lump almost hidden in a small alcove twenty feet from them.

Harry shrugged his good shoulder and carefully approached the alcove, giving the lump a nudge with the toe of his trainer when he was close enough. He jumped back when it suddenly burst into motion, unfolding itself into a person that scrambled to their feet, wand in hand.

"Neville?" Hermione exclaimed. "What are you doing out here?"

"Sweet Merlin, it's you guys. Thank you, I've been stuck out here for hours. I couldn't remember the password to the common room and the Fat Lady wouldn't let me in." He looked around nervously before he leaned in toward Harry. "The Bloody Baron has been by here twice tonight. Bloke gives me the creeps, lemme tell you."

"It's pig snout, Neville."

He groaned and thumped the heel of one hand against his forehead. "Thanks, Hermione. I can't believe I couldn't remember that."

"No worries, Nev. Look, we gotta get moving, we'll catch you later."

Neville looked back and forth between the three of them. "Duel with Malfoy?" he asked after a minute and Harry nodded. "I'm coming with. Where a Potter goes, a Longbottom stands beside him," he said when Harry opened his mouth to protest. "You're not leaving me behind."

#####

It was just shy of one in the morning, and the Gryffindor common room had been quiet for hours. The tables used for study where empty. As were the couches, sofas, and armchairs where student's would lounge or relax in the evenings or during a free period.

The quiet was broken abruptly as the portrait hole swung open and four bedraggled and sweaty students stumbled into the room, clambering through the portrait hole, breath coming fast and hard as if they'd just run a marathon. They threw themselves into several of the armchairs near the fire, shaking and panting. It was a while before any of them said anything, indeed, Harry felt that Neville might not speak again judging by the look of him.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron said finally. "If there's any dog in the world that needs exercise, that one does."

"You don't use your eyes, do you," Hermione snapped. "Didn't any of you see what it was standing on?"

Harry considered that for a moment. Looking back at the very fresh memory of the massive three headed dog they had just fled from down the third floor corridor. The room had been large, of course, to accommodate the dog. But it had been bare of any kind of decoration or ornamentation. So what was she- "A trap door," he breathed after a minute. He could see the square outline of the door with a metal pull ring to use as a handle underneath one of the dog's massive paws in his minds eye. "It's guarding something."

"What could something like that be guarding in a school?" Neville asked. He had a pensive look on his face, bottom lip pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand as he thought.

"What was it that Hagrid said? No place safer or more secure in the world than Gringotts, except for Hogwarts." Harry grinned at them. "I think we just found where the package that Hagrid took from vault seven hundred and thirteen was moved to."

"Well there's nothing we can do about it tonight," Ron said and climbed to his feet. He stretched, long arms reaching high toward the ceiling before dropping back to his side and he gave a huge yawn. "I'm knackered, heading to bed."

"You act as if it was our fault you were out late, Ronald," Hermione snapped waspishly. He didn't respond, already half way across the room and heading for the stairs.

"I'm heading up too," Neville said. "Thanks," he added, "for trusting me to come along."

"No worries Nev," Harry waved him away. "You're a good guy Neville. I'll always be proud to have you at my side." Neville nodded and moments later Harry and Hermione were alone in the common room.

The fire had burned down to mostly embers, casting a dim red glow over their corner of the room.

"Did you put the bruise salve on your shoulder?" she asked suddenly.

He winced and hesitantly shook his head.

"Robes and shirt," she demanded and headed for the stairs. When she got back, jar of bruise salve in hand, he was still fighting with his shirt. He didn't say anything when she moved closer and started helping him, and the lighting made it difficult to tell, but she was fairly sure he was blushing again.

"No shame, Harry," she whispered. He didn't react at all and just let her help with his shirt. In moments she had him stripped to his waist and she took the lid off the jar, taking a small amount of the salve on her fingers which she rubbed between her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath when her hands touched him, back straightening sharply.

"Sorry."

He shook his head. "Didn't hurt," he muttered.

They fell silent again after that as she carefully rubbed the salve into his skin. His shoulder and part of his chest and upper back where a mass of deep purple bruises so dark they hid the fact that his entire right shoulder was one massive burn scar. She'd wanted to know how that one had happened for a long time but she was willing to wait until he was able to tell them about them.

After several minutes the salve warmed considerably under her hands, a sign the label on the jar had told her meant that the magic was absorbing into his skin and she was done. For some reason though, she didn't want to stop touching him so she just kept going, letting her fingers trace the rough bumps, dips, ridges, and valleys of the many, many scars that marked him.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, suddenly.

"For what?" she asked, her fingers ceasing in their movement across his skin.

"For being stubborn. For not listening. You were right, we shouldn't have gone."

"True. It would've been so easy to get caught, Harry." He nodded. "And with that dog." She paused and let out a huge sigh, tension seeming to drain out of her body before her hands started moving again. "We could've been killed," she said. "Or worse, expelled."

He tilted his head back so he could look up at her standing behind him. "Expelled is worse than killed?" he asked, a small smirk twitching around his mouth.

"What happens if you get expelled, Harry?"

He shrugged his good shoulder. "I'm kicked out of school, right?"

"And where would you go?"

"I guess I'd have to go back to the-" His mouth snapped shut, teeth clicking audibly together as all the blood drained from his face.

"Ssshhhhhh," she soothed. "Didn't happen, so don't worry about it now. And I'm sorry to bring it up, I really am. I just wanted to make sure you understood, Harry. It's much better if you stay here."

She glanced at the time and winced but patted his good shoulder and stepped back, screwing the lid tightly onto the jar. She leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, her lips soft against the scar above his eye, hair falling forward until both of their faces were hidden by a curtain of brown curls.

"Goodnight, Harry," she whispered.

Before he could react she straightened and disappeared up the stairs to the first year girls dorm.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he whispered to an empty room. He returned his eyes to the embers in the fireplace, his mind racing, filled with thoughts of the three young women that had crashed so suddenly into his solitary life.

It would be hours yet, before he finally found his bed.