Theo POV

I had fought every instinct to remain still, to feign uncaring as Hermione took out her rage on Draco. She would stop herself. I had to believe it. I didn't think there was a killing bone in her body as much as she wished that there was. I was right, or maybe she was just too tired. Her heavy blows eventually became smacks until she cracked into sobs. She fell to the ground beside him. I checked on him then, running a diagnostic as Hermione shook.

Symptoms: Non-life threating injuries noted. Orbital Fracture, Nasal Fracture, Lacerations. Suggested Spell: Episkey

I was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Draco would not want me to repair the damage, but I did it anyway. The spell came easily after years of performing it on the both of us. I wasn't even rusty from my time in Azkaban. Magic felt right, it flowed easily. Draco shouted when his cheek and nose cracked into place and then he glared at me. I had only just taken off the edge of his discomfort, being sure that the spell wouldn't do more than fix the bone damage, but still he wanted the pain and I had stolen it.

His attention quickly turned to Hermione who had her arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she sobbed. Her face was splotched red and soaked in tears. She scrambled away when I reached out to touch her, to help, and I fought to keep my mask in place. The golden girl was broken. When had it happened? Obviously sometime during the war. It's why she hadn't been in the tabloids, why she was taking her 7th year at school two years too late instead of one. I'd thought that maybe her brief bout of stuttering in the infirmary had been due to anger, but now it was clear it was entirely due to her anger that she spoke in the first place. I could feel it rolling off her, almost as if she was projecting it.

"My wand," she growled out the words, slapping at her face to remove the tears. "I want my wand."

That cemented it. She was so irate that the words were coming out at record speed.

"I'm sorry," Draco muttered behind me. "I had to, you had to know that I had to. I would have died if I hadn't done it. Bella would have killed me."

Confusion. I was so confused by his words, but Hermione wasn't.

"I should have fucking killed you."

Fuck. All at once things had gone from bad to worse. I took the opportunity to rip Draco's wand from his hand. Neither of them needed magic right now. The last thing they needed was magical means to murder each other. Scratch that, Draco would welcome death not condemn someone else. His wand could end up in her hand by accident though.

"Then do it! Kill me! You can't hurt me anymore than I've hurt myself. Give me the sweet release that only death can if you've got the stomach for it. I didn't! I didn't have the balls for it, but you do, don't you, mudblood? You're stronger than I could ever be."

Something flicked in Hermione's hand, a spark of unspoken magic. Power and anger had converged to dangerous magic, wandless magic. I had to step in, had to stop whatever it was that was about to happen. I cast my sleeping spell before she could cast whatever magic she had been ready to toss at Draco.

Hermione fell limp from her sitting position. I winced when her head hit the floor. Twice in one week, that couldn't be good for her.

"What the fuck was that all about?" I snapped, looking over at Draco. There was several tears on his still bloody face. He quickly looked away from me, wiping them off. He wasn't going to get away that easily. "And why the fuck did you call her that? You don't believe that pureblood shite anymore, no more than I do."

Draco didn't answer and he kept refusing to look at me.

"What did you do?"

Again, nothing. I was so sick of his shit.

"Come back to our room when you're done being an arsehole and you're ready to talk. Until then, sleep up here for all I care."

With that said, I abandoned Draco to his spiraling. After stuffing all three wands into my back pocket, I lifted Hermione from the cold stone floor. She groaned, but the spell still had a hold. It wouldn't wear off completely for a few hours. I carried her down the stairs, careful to not jostle her too much in the tight corridors of the house elves stairwell. In the distance, I could hear the distinct voices of Headmistress McGonagall and Professor Flitwick as I neared the main hall. I had to throw my invisibility cloak over us before I stepped out from the stairwell. It was a bit cramped for too people and as soon as it was in place I was assaulted by the smell of her- warm vanilla. Her hair nearly smothered me beneath the fabric and that scent saturated every inch of space. My dick responded to it involuntarily.

Fuck, why does she have to smell so good?

I was thrilled when we were alone and I could throw the cloak off. It at least helped me think a bit more clearly. After years of avoiding the Head Girl's quarters in fear of being caught out after dark it was easy enough to find her room. I opened the door, careful not to jostle her too badly as I stepped inside. The room was as bare as ours. Books and plain house decor. I wished there was more. I wanted a peak inside her brain, to know what she enjoyed other than honey in her morning tea or sugar quills in the library as she read through endless books. After placing her in bed and covering her with the Gryffindor red sheets I let myself wander to the bookshelves. I expected the normal wizard books, but not the muggle romance novels. There was a time when I never would have touched such things, afraid of getting my hands dirty, but now I brushed my fingers along the spines, reading the muggle titles. Muggles, not so different from wizards. Muggle-borns, sometimes more powerful than the most refined purebloods. I eyed Hermione on the bed, her hair in a mess, snoring softly in sleep. I stepped towards the bed and I did the unthinkable.

"Obliviate."

It was cruel of me and it felt wrong even as I dragged the memory out of her, but I knew it would ruin everything if I let her keep that tiny snippet. It was just one word that I erased from the evening. The one that Draco had used to stroke her anger in hopes that she would finally end his suffering. She didn't deserve to hear it anymore, to remember it. She would never be called a Mudblood again if I had anything to say about it.