Hello, y'all! First I want to apologize to everyone who might have felt offended by the fact that I in the last chapter listed Ireland as a part of Britain. I know that it's not! I swear it only slipped my mind. But as Voldemort would say; no matter, no matter. One big mistake in a 23 chapter long story is not that bad (I think). Thank you for your approval of Claire and every review you sent me. Keep doing that, ha ha. Enjoy.

Chap. 24 Bruises

To see Scabior dead before her caused more distress inside Hermione than she had ever expected. But he had as good as promised her he would be alright, and he had managed to apparate here. That meant he had only been lifeless in mere minutes. There was still hope.

"Come on. Help me turn him over," Hermione said in a steady voice as resolve settled in her body and ushered her to do anything in her powers to save Scabior. With joined efforts, the women managed to flip Scabior so he faced the weeping night sky.

Hermione groaned and she heard Claire cry out in anguish when they saw the front.

Blood had soaked Scabior's pants and only left some small patches in their original state. But as the rain began to further wet the man, the blood mingled with the water and completed the colouration. Hermione knew that losing so much blood was very bad.

With trembling hands she opened the leather coat to examine the torso.

"No!" she whispered when she gazed upon a shattered chest. Blood had once again stained Scabior's clothing and his green jacket was torn apart.

"Those fuckin' stones from 'ell," Claire mumbled as she softly caressed a white hand.

Hermione discovered the culprit too; a particularly sharp stone wedged between shorter grass. It was smeared with blood. At least Hermione now had some hints about Scabior's injuries. She became determined to help Scabior, just like she had been when Ron splinched himself.

A Diffendo made it easier to open the tattered jacket, although Hermione silently winced when the fabric had to be separated from the cloggy wound. The area around the open wound was bruised and bore witness of several broken ribs. Hermione held her wand over the ribcage with her teeth clenched together.

In order to allow Scabior to breathe easier, she had to hurt him momentarily.

"Episkey. Episkey. Episkey. Episkey."

Each incantation was followed by an ominous snap when the broken bones mended themselves and rose, thus making way for the lungs to expand.

Hermione panted after the suspense. Despite the terrible pain, there were still no sounds from Scabior. She took to muggle methods in her desperation. She reached out her free hand and felt on Scabior's neck, searching for a beat of life. Nothing.

"Oh no, you don't," she hissed and tossed her wand away. Not caring about the newly healed ribs, as air was more important, Hermione began to press repeatedly on the white and red chest. More blood seeped from the chest wound but she did not care.

"What're ya doin'? Leave 'im alone!" the confused and protective mother shouted but Hermione threw a composed glance at Claire while she continued to help the weak heart to beat.

"I'm trying to save him by muggle healing. If we're lucky, he'll beat death, but right now I need you to let me do this."

Hermione was aware of her rather bossy tone but at the same time it was effective around panicked people. Claire looked at her son and raised her wand. She began to unstitch Scabior's pants and heal the injuries that marred his strong legs. Grateful for her compliance, Hermione returned her attention to the non-existent pulse.

She stopped her ministrations and lowered her head to Scabior's. She bent his head back slightly to clear his throat. A firm hand closed his nostrils and she bent down and breathed into Scabior's mouth. His chest rose which confirmed her efficiency. Once the chest began to descend, she retreated from the softness of his lips and felt for a pulse again. Nothing.

In an act of frustration, and yet in accordance with lifesaving, she hit Scabior forcefully on the ribs to shock the heart into working. Her hands returned to his chest and continued to massage the muscle hidden beneath the ribs. Water drops trapped in her hair fell onto Scabior, and maybe tears too.

"Breathe! Dammit Scabior, breathe!" Hermione yelled when she felt hope and energy slowly abandon her just like the blood abandoned the silent body before her. One of her hands shot to the neck again and pressed down to recognize a pulse.

And there it was.

Hermione swallowed hard and kept her fingers on the spot to reassure herself that Scabior indeed was alive. The beat was weak but regular and it was there.

As if letting her every nerve-end tune in the pulse, Hermione ceased her compressions. The pulse stayed by itself.

Relief flooded her mind and she sobbed when all penned up anxiety left her tired body.

"What? What?" Claire asked and gripped Hermione's wet shoulder. Hermione gave a genuine smile and sighed contentedly, "His heart's beating on it's own accord. Scabior's alive."

The woman clasped both her hands to her mouth and tears welled in her eyes. Hermione looked back at Scabior and stroked the hair gently off his forehead. He was definitely becoming better, judging by the decreasing paleness on the skin.

"Let's get him inside now. He needs warmth," Hermione stated as she picked herself up from the cold ground and retrieved her wand. Claire watched her with an odd expression on her face.

"Ya're really fond o' my lad, aren't ya?" Hermione felt a temptation to confess but her concern for Scabior was the most important matter right now. She shrugged.

"As I said before, he did nice things for me. Now I did a nice thing in return."

Claire nodded and changed the subject.

"Thank you, Penelope fer savin' my son."

Hermione smiled at the calm woman who she now counted as one strange but steady ally. Purebloods had their honour and paid any debts that came in their way. Especially life-debts.

Claire got up from the ground but continued to hold onto Scabior's hand.

"Ah, there's 'is wand," Claire pointed out and made the magic piece of wood fly from the grass into her already wand-carrying hand.

"Maybe we should levitate him together. If one of us slips on a stone and loses concentration, he won't fall too," Hermione suggested and the two women lifted the unconscious companion and began to head back to the cottage.

The heat on the inside was a true blessing and Hermione was keen on rubbing the chill out of her bones as soon as Scabior had been taken care of. One of the rooms in the corridor seemed proper enough according to Claire and they entered with a floating Scabior.

The first thing that Hermione noticed was that the window in the room was equally as dirty as the others she had seen. When she looked around she saw an invitingly broad bed with frayed but clean linens, a small night table, an armchair with the same burgundy velvet as the sofa in the living room and a chest of drawers. No paintings covered the walls in here, although green and silver Slytherin banners and a poster with a quidditch player dressed in blue, who at times mounted his broomstick and quickly soared out of the picture, made the room look cosier. Hermione had no idea who the player was.

As she and Claire lowered Scabior onto the bed it suddenly occurred to Hermione that the ruined pants and the soiled jacket would smudge the white linen so she charmed the coat and the jacket off Scabior. Then she addressed Claire.

"Do you have anything else for him to wear while he's recovering?" Claire huffed. "I've saved some o' the old pyjamas, alright. Even though Scabior almost never visited me. Reckon they're a bit teeny now, though."

She aimed her wand at the chest of drawers and one drawer released a pair of trousers and one shirt. A simple Engorgio made them fit Scabior's muscular body.

Feeling a little embarrassed, Hermione let Claire change Scabior's clothes with magic while she turned to look out the window. She suspected that Scabior might not have any underwear under his checkered pants.

As she turned back she caught sight of the healed calves and simply had to compliment Claire's handiwork.

"Good job with healing the leg wounds. There might not even be scars. Have you used many healing charms before?"

"Used them? Did Salazar Slytherin speak Parseltongue? O' course I've healed Scabior before. That damn kid runnin' around every day 'til he fell an' 'urt 'imself. Scabior would 'ave been a bloody cripple if I hadn't done anything."

Claire made the dirty clothes fold themselves and land on top of the chest of drawers.

"Claire, do you mind if I treat Scabior's chest wound and watch over him tonight?" Hermione asked meekly, not wanting to get in the way of a fiercely protective mother. In her heart she wished that the mother would allow her to take care of her... well, her dear man. Fortunately, Claire yawned and scratched her chin as if considering the proposal.

"Yeah, ya're a lovely bird an' all, Penelope. I'm knackered an' need my beauty sleep. I'll be in the room just across the hallway. An' there's a bathroom in the room beside this. The kitchen's the one beside mine."

Claire stepped closer to the bed where Scabior was between sleep and unconsciousness and caressed him lovingly on the cheek before she gathered her black dress and lifted an eyebrow at Hermione.

"Ya better get dry fast, love. I've certainly not time fer a cold above all else. An' feel free ta transfigure that armchair into yer own bed. Unless you'd rather..."

Hermione blushed furiously and Claire chuckled to herself as she left the room and closed the door.

Hermione saw to Scabior's needs first and sat down on the bed beside him. Gone was the eerie mask of death; a more healthy look had settled on his relaxed face. He was going to be alright.

She unbuttoned the shirt and studied his chest. Blood was still trickling from the nasty wound but the ribs were mended. Scabior would feel a small amount of pain due to the internal bruises around his ribcage but that would go too.

Hermione whispered out a spell that sealed the open wound but was aware of her throbbing head as she used her last reserves to heal Scabior. Once she was satisfied, she buttoned the shirt with her hands and put a blanket over Scabior's sleeping form. She remembered how he had said that he had watched over her in three days straight after Bellatrix had harmed her. But Hermione was exhausted both mentally and physically after the long day.

While sitting down, she transfigured the armchair into a much simpler bed than Scabior's, unable to stretch the piece of furniture to a more comfortable bed. That would nearly be impossible for the magic, just like it was to turn a match into a sofa.

Hermione wavered on the bed, almost falling onto Scabior in the process. With great effort she stumbled to her bed and laid down on the squeaky thing.

'That's okay. Makes it feel like I'm in Scabior's bed in the tent again,' she thought absent-mindedly and waved her wand one last time to dry her clothes. The spell worked passably and she slipped to sleep immediately.

Something disturbed him. A noise. Or rather several noises that would not stop.

After a while Scabior managed to determine the sounds.

Seagulls.

So he was by the coast. He tried his other senses.

A smell of apples and vanilla floated around him and would have lulled him back to sleep, had he not decided to examine his surroundings.

'Hermione.'

She was near, thank Merlin! As on cue his instincts told him to find her, to capture her in his arms and never let go. His arms even moved a couple of inches only to result in great pain fluttering in his chest. He gasped and ceased his movements.

'Oh, right. The Dark fuckin' Lord,' he thought when the memory of his torture returned. And he had apparated to Ireland, to his mother's house. And Hermione was here. The wrinkles disappeared from his forehead as he realized his success. That is, if his legs were still...

Wanting to see them for himself, Scabior slowly opened his eyes. A bright light shone through a familiarly dirty window and stung his eyes before they got used to the sunshine.

He laid in his old bed in the room that his mother had insisted on keeping as his temporary bedroom if he ever visited. Despite his loud protests, she had decorated the walls with memories of his childhood: Slytherin banners and a rare poster of Roderick Plumpton, the seeker for Tutshill Tornados who once caught the snitch after three and a half seconds. Scabior had admired Plumpton for the extraordinary speed, but then again, it probably had something to do with his own snatcher nature.

Scabior's gaze fell upon the blanket that hid his legs. Ignoring the seething pain that left him soaked in cold sweat, he forced his arms to cooperate and move the obscuring blanket to the side. Two legs clad in his old pyjamas and ten toes greeted him.

'Looks fine, at least.'

He flexed his muscles and spread his legs. They worked. And then he bent them so his bare feet were flat against the soft linen beneath. His legs were alright.

Scabior smiled at himself and breathed out his relief. He would be able to run again. A snore brought his attention from his healed body to a person lying in a bed by the wall.

The wild golden brown curls gave her identity away. It was as if they were back in his tent, sleeping in separated beds in a narrow space. Scabior felt a need tug at his core, imploring him to make sure she was fine. He could not imagine how her day had been like yesterday, what with spending time with his mother. He must check for any lingering damage.

"Hey, Hermione!" he called softly and there came a reluctant groan from the curls. Actually, it was a very pleasant sound.

"Hermione! Wake up sleepyhead."

The curls bounced when the head began to move around. Her beautiful mocha brown eyes stared back at him and gave him peace at last.

"Scabior! You're awake!" she suddenly screamed and jumped off her bed in a hurry, almost knocking over the night table in the process, before she sat down on his bed. She studied his face and Scabior felt very content at being so thoroughly examined.

"You feel okay? No headache or anything," she asked seriously and held her hands against his cheeks.

"Nothing to report, love. Except, I feel like a centaur herd ran over me."

"Oh, I guess it's that darned chest wound and your ribs. Scabior, when you apparate, you're supposed to land on you feet, not flat on you stomach."

So Hermione was in a joking mood. Two could play that game. "But I love to make a spectacular entrance. Tell me, was there a fan-fucking-tastic symphony of musical wonder when I let a stone play on my ribs?"

She hummed but lowered her gaze and began to finger on her sweater.

"Hermione, what's wrong," Scabior said, worried by her avoiding posture.

She mumbled quietly, "You have no idea how bad it looked yesterday, do you?"

Scabior swallowed nervously.

"Eh, the Dark Lord punished me for losing you, and there was a certain amount of blood. But I suppose you healed me right away, honey?"

"You were dead. You didn't breathe at all. You were gone, Scabior." Her voice was a mix of harshness and yet weakness. Scabior's smile faltered as he watched Hermione chew on her lip.

"Then how do you explain me being here?" he asked calmly despite the raging storm of emotions within.

"I had to press your heart to get it to work again. Dammit Scabior, you kept being dead until I breathed air into your mouth!"

She yelled the last at him and covered her eyes as her shoulders began to shake. A sobbed escaped her defeated form and Scabior wished her tears away. He lifted his arms, ignorant of the pain, and clasped her wrists. A tug made her lean closer to him, making it more intimately as she rested her head barely a few inches above his face.

"Hey, beautiful. I'm here and I'm alive now. You healed me just like I healed you. Thank you," he murmured into her veil of scented curls and jerked her hands from her face. In an odd way, her tears upset him more than Voldemort's threat about taking away his legs. Dark circles dominated the skin under her eyes and a grey tone covered her tired face. She looked utterly exhausted. Scabior decided on the spot to remedy that.

"Come here."

Without having to force her, she leaned down and rested her head on his shoulder after asking if it did not hurt.

'This is nice,' Scabior concluded as the snatcher within revelled in the presence of a delicious woman.

"Tell me a joke, please," Hermione murmured beside him.

"What's the most boring creature in the wizarding world?"

At first she sniffed but then she sighed soberly against his neck, bringing shivers down his spine.

"I don't know."

"The draaaaaaag on."

"Oh, you really are silly."

"And you are beautiful."

She coughed and made to leave. Scabior held her down determinedly.

"Can the performer get a just enough sloppy smooch?" he begged playfully.

Hermione locked eyes with him and moved towards his mouth. A delicate, soft kiss graced his lips, as if something vulnerable was baring its soul to him. The kiss was different from the first heated one between them, but it still made Scabior's heart ache and his head spin.

Hermione had disarmed him and distracted him so much that Scabior did not had time to catch her when she left the bed and moved beyond his reach. She cleared her throat.

"You need to fully recover. I'll get some breakfast for us," she said neutrally, although her red cheeks betrayed her attempt to complete composure.

She left the room before Scabior got a chance to answer but he did not mind. Aside from the throbbing in his chest he felt like a king, as he had found a haven where the Dark Lord would not disturb him for a while and was treated by Hermione.

But his mission right now would be to protect Hermione from any malevolent seeds of doubt his dear mother could plant in the innocent woman's head.

I'm awfully aware of the lack of smut in this story. But I appreciate a good build-up. And who knows, two young people in a lonely cottage in a romantic environment; there might be sex. See you at the next chapter release!