Chapter 13 - First Person and Talent (Prompts)

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Harry watched her as she silently went about dressing the wounds across his body.

After their ill-fated run-in in the bathroom, she had stated in no uncertain terms that he was to toss the clothes he was wearing, wash, and come downstairs after. He decided to follow through with her orders for fear of getting yelled at. Once he came down, he found an assortment of Muggle spirits that Arthur had hoarded, stocked well with bandages. Hermione immediately set about cleaning his wounds; her fingers gentle, but her lips pursed in a stubborn way that he knew from past experiences, that she was unhappy with him.

There was a limit of silence he could endure.

"You're mad."

"Yes," she said curtly, her eyes narrowed in concentration at the deep gash on his shoulder. At that moment, she pressed unusually hard which caused him to wince from the pain. "Sorry," she mumbled, her tone sounding a bit more sympathetic than what he thought she currently was. She briefly looked at him before turning her attention back to his injured shoulder.

They stayed silent for a few more minutes, Hermione occasionally huffing out low, frustrated breaths every time she moved onto a new wound or saw another bruise. It was obvious that she wanted to chastise him for neglecting himself, but he hoped that she wouldn't. Even though he knew that she was not the type to stay silent for long.

"I don't understand you, Harry," she muttered more to herself as she started working on a nasty cut across his forearm. "There were Healers after the battle. We were all looked after." She looked at him in confusion. "Where were you?"

He honestly didn't know. He saw the aftermath and felt the need to leave. He didn't really think about the consequences.

Sighing, probably in frustration at his silence, Hermione gently rolled the last bit of the bandage over the exposed wound on his forearm. "You've been without any medical care for over a day. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

He had a feeling that she was going to tell him.

"If these had been normal cuts you would have still been able to develop so many Muggle conditions. As it is, these could also be magical. And it's not like I can heal you with that," she said disdainfully as she nodded at Bellatrix's wand which sat innocently on the table. "And it's not like Molly, who I'm convinced is as good as any Healer, could do it. Or Arthur. No one in this house is in the right mind-set to perform such magic." Sadly, she looked at him. "You shouldn't have waited so long." She turned away from him and started placing the medication back where she found it, her shoulders hunched in a way that made him think that she had given up on him.

Harry knew that she was right; which was why part of him cursed the fact that he answered the door without his jacket that hid all his visible injuries, and another part of him cursed the fact that he hadn't stayed in the Great Hall to be healed just like the rest, instead opting to take a walk and ultimately watch the sunrise.

Almost without thinking he asked her, "Why do you look after me, Hermione?"

Hermione stiffened before she turned to face him cautiously. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...Do you think I'm incapable of looking after myself? Do you feel sorry for me?" He hadn't meant to ask those questions. Not really. It just burst out of him.

"Harry, that's ridiculous." She shook her head, a half laugh leaving her lips.

"Okay then," he said seriously, very much aware that she didn't answer his question. "Why?"

She stared at him incredulously. "I don't know what you want me to say."

That wasn't a good enough answer for him, even if that could be considered an answer. Ducking his head so he need not look at her, he grabbed his shirt from the back of his chair and started putting it on, wincing when he moved his raw muscles.

Hermione immediately spoke, her tone laced with panic. "I don't know why I look after you, Harry. Maybe you were the first person I looked after or maybe it's because you have a talent of getting into trouble. I just don't know."

"I don't go searching for trouble, Hermione. Trouble-"

"Usually finds you. I know," she finished gently. "At least eat something before you go to sleep."

Harry hesitated, not really feeling the appetite that was causing his stomach to growl several minutes ago.

"I'll eat with you."

He couldn't help but notice that she hadn't eaten either. At least with him, he could be sure that she ate something as well. Reluctantly, he nodded before taking a seat at the empty table. And with a small smile, Hermione went about re-heating the dinner she and Fleur had made.

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