Hermione wasn't very fond of Apparition, let alone Side-Along one, having remembered how she accidentally splinched Ron one time. When Theo held his hand out for her to take, his bright eyes gleaming in the moonlit darkness, instead of caution and fear, she felt a surge of calmness and trust run through her. She didn't know if it was her desperate need to break the curse that overshadowed any sense of self-preservation and rational thinking, or if it had to do with the inexplicable pull she felt toward Theo and her growing attraction for him which she couldn't deny whenever he flashed her a smile.

Her first thought when they apparated to his house, thankfully in one piece, was that it felt lacking in any warmth and devoid of any personal touches of the people who lived there. It was made strictly for the purpose of functionality, without any elements to make it feel like home. There had been rumors, many years ago, that Theo's father had something to do with his son's mother's death, but Theo was one to keep to himself and they had quickly died out. She wondered if something so horrific had any truth to it and if Theo experienced the same feelings as she did, not having both of his parents around anymore. With his mother deceased and his father in Azkaban, did their absence weight heavily on him, just as it did on her? Her parents were still alive, but had no recollection of ever having a daughter as she had Oblivated them before the War. She missed them greatly.

"You look like you're ready to start right away."

She nodded readily at him, not wanting to waste any time. "That's what we're here for."

She saw him roll his eyes at her eagerness, but he motioned for her to follow him.

The collection in his library was breath-taking. There were hundreds, if not more, of old tomes, just waiting to be picked up and delved into. The idea that most of them, if not all, were brimming with the notions of the darkest of magic was both disturbing and exhilarating. She felt a shiver run down her spine at the thought of being exposed to such knowledge growing up. She pondered if Theo had ever had a sense of pull towards their contents.

"This is impressive," she commented, taking in the sight.

Theo grunted in response.

They silently got to work, going one book after another. She remarked every now and then, when she thought she found some promising information, but upon further reflection from them both, they shot these leads down. While she had a genuine love for acquiring new knowledge, the task at hand proved demoralizing. Reading about how to make someone's blood boil wasn't in the spectrum of her interests.

After several hours, Theo approached her with a tray of delicious smelling food which took her by surprise. She had been so engrossed in her research, she hadn't even noticed his absence. Her stomach had already growled at her a couple of times, but she just couldn't take a break. She stumbled upon a very interesting chapter in the same book Theo had casually put aside after skimming it briefly and casting aside. She had to keep going. She politely declined his offer, turning another page, when suddenly her reading material was forcefully ripped away from her hands. Theo held the hard cover in his hands, shooting her a warning look as she reacted with indignation and tried to retrieve it from him. He callously threw it beyond her reach, causing it to land with a loud bang. She gasped at that careless, and in her opinion, outrageous action, casting him an affronted glare.

"Eat," he commanded, pushing the tray towards her.

She picked up a piece of toast, not hiding her displeasure with him, but he seemed completely oblivious to her offended demeanor.

"You know," she started. "That book that you treated so poorly had a chapter that caught my attention."

"Oh really? What did it say?"

"Bring it over and I'll show you."

"After you've eaten," he said decidedly.

Hermione had already learned that there was no arguing with Theo. She complied, and she was glad that at least one of them was sensible enough to remember they needed to eat. As she munched on her toast, she could feel how hungry she had gotten in those few hours.

"I think I might have learned something," she said, recalling her yesterday's investigation. "I don't think the curse has taken over me. I haven't felt any irrational anger or the desire for nonsensical arguments."

Theo snorted at the 'nonsensical arguments' and she contemplated throwing her half-eaten food at him.

"I've spoken to other Muggle-borns students and they haven't displayed any signs either. I'm starting to think that this curse doesn't affect us."

His expression grew thoughtful as he looked over at her, but then his eyes narrowed, as they fixated on a space to her side. She followed his gaze and her heart sank with dread as she realized that the scar on her arm, a reminder of who she was perceived as, a mudblood, was peeking out from beneath her shirt. In a rush of embarrassment and vulnerability, she dropped the toast on the tray, hastily pulling down her sleeve to conceal the mark.

She had tried any possible solution to get rid of it , but it seemed it had become an indelible part of her, permanently etched into her skin. Some said that scars were a testament to the trials one had endured and survived, but Hermione felt no sense of pride in it. It only fueled her bitterness at the thought that all of this could have been prevented if the wizarding world wasn't so obsessed with blood purity in the first place—and as long as there were still people who nurtured that view, she would always struggle to truly belong here.

"I'm sorry," she heard Theo's apologizing tone. "I didn't mean to stare."

There was a heavy pause, the air turning thick, and Theo seemed to come to some sort of decision. His hand closed over the sleeve of his own sweater, revealing to her something she hadn't anticipated to see. Poised on Theo's forearm, glaring at her in black ink, was the Dark Mark.

"I thought—" she stammered, taken aback by this revelation. "I thought Malfoy was the only student to have taken the Dark Mark."

"He's the only one known to have it," he said with a grimace.

"Are there many more?"

"No," he said. "Just a handful. Those are the kids whose fathers desperately wanted to impress the Dark Lord, even if it meant putting their children on the line."

"I'm so sorry, Theo," she told him, feeling a surge of sadness wash over her. In the midst of chaos during the War, it was easy to forget that most of them were still just teenagers fighting for their lives.

"I know why you feel the way you do about Draco, but he has been a loyal friend to me. We had each other's backs in the darkest times, both for ourselves and our families. I've wanted to alleviate some of the pressure from him, to show others that he's not the only one bearing the mark at such a young age, but he didn't want to hear about it," he said, and then added with a bitterness, "And it's not like I can hide it forever."

Hermione was at a loss for words. The choice Theo's father made, prioritizing loyalty to his leader over his son's safety, spoke volumes about his character. She could only speculate on how broken a relationship like this one must be. Did he always exhibit such coldness toward his son, or had it only manifested as Theo grew older? Was there any flicker of warmth left between them, or had bitterness and sorrow taken over completely? Many questions were wandering through her mind right now, but she was too afraid to voice them. The fact that Theo had shared this much about his life with her already astonished her.

While she might have felt sympathy for Malfoy, she did not experience the same pang of hurt for him as she did for Theo. She was glad, though, that despite the cold, cruel side of Malfoy she had dealt with over the years, he proved to be a good friend to the ones he cared about.

"I know you have a kind heart. I know you want to put an end to this for everyone's sake," he said, looking her straight in the eyes. "But I owe it to Malfoy to help him, and my drive to keep going is mainly for his sake. I'm not driven by some altruistic motive and a desire to help others. You need to understand it," Theo told her, bringing an end to a rare moment of sincerity between them, as he said next, "We should get back. We'll return tomorrow, but we can't be gone too long or there's a chance our absence might be discovered."

"Wait," she called out. "I really did find something interesting in that book you threw. Hand it over."

He did as she asked, and she searched for the correct page.

"Here," she said, pointing to the designated paragraph. "Read it."

The Soulwarp curse manifests in a way that makes the target struggle to keep their emotions in check. It enhances their temper, forcing them to act out without reason. It grows stronger with each day that it remains unbroken, eventually taking over the cursed target's mind and later soul. It's purpose is to corrupt the individual and bend their will to the caster's desires. The caster has to have the end goal in mind when casting the Soulwarp curse, as desired outcome cannot be altered or modified once the curse is invoked. Unlike the widely known Imperius curse, the Soulwarp curse is shrouded from the awareness of most Wizards and Witches, but also cannot be cast by just anyone. Casting this curse requires skill, the target's blood, and a powerful bloodline lineage. The counter-course is unknown, or might not even exist. There are no records of it ever being used.

With each line he read, Theo's jaw clenched and a flash of something dark flickered within his eyes.

"What is your impression?" he asked, looking up at her.

"My impression?" she pondered, remembering just how dark the description of this curse was. "That this is really bad. What could your father want from Malfoy by casting such curse on him?"

Theo looked away, slightly disappointed. "Nothing with good intentions for sure."

"What is it you're not telling me?" she asked, feeling her temper spike. "How bad is it?"

"It's time for our lessons," he simply said, ignoring her question.

"No," she said angrily. "Tell me what it is that you know."

"I can't," he said, letting anger lace his voice, before he reeled it in and continued more calmly. "Do what I've been teaching you."

"No," she repeated, her stance not wavering. "Why can't you just be honest with me? I am trying to help, you wanted my help."

She couldn't understand why he would make her work for every little information instead of simply telling her what he knew. Her conversations with Theo were like a light in the tunnel—only she was the one trying to catch the light while it was running away from her. She was tired of the cat and mouse game—but, why was it that Theo wanted her to pry his knowledge out of his mind?

She shot him a suspicious gaze, gaining nothing from his posture and expression. Without any announcement, she plunged herself into his head, looking for something she could grab onto. His emotions run in amok—anger, fury, disappointment, sadness, disdain, rage, heartbreak—the memories and thoughts speeding too fast for her to catch. She found one, a younger version of Theo and an older man, the man's features so alike Theo's, who was looking down at the boy with the coldest eyes she had ever seen.

"It's just you and me now, boy," the man—his father, she surmised, spoke in just as icy tone as his eyes looked. There were speckles of blood staining his dark green shirt. "Do not—"

The young Theo stood his ground with strong presence, but she could feel there was a quick flicker of sadness washing over his face.

The older man bent down, grabbing his son's shoulders with too much force. "Do not show emotions. Have I taught you nothing?"

His tone rose, there was a whisper of fear on Theo's face and then…

She was back in Theo's Manor, the older Theo—the one she knew, was holding onto her arm, staring straight into her eyes, and she could feel his hand shaking. Just like she could spot the tiny wisps of emotions on his younger version, she could discern the same ones in the Theo that was right in front of her. She placed her palm over his own, trying to show him comfort and his gaze shot down at their joined hands and his eyes filled with pain. She felt his hand move under hers, as if wanted to grab it and hold it, but he quickly shook it off and pushed himself away.

She had so many questions—what happened after? What did his father mean by 'it's just you and me now'? Was he taking about Theo's mother? And the blood—? She wanted to go back, to find the answers, but she was too afraid of what she would find and see.

"We need to go," he said, getting up, saying nothing about what she had just witnessed. "We'll talk tomorrow."

"Do you want to talk about—?"

"We need to go," he repeated with urgency, clutching the ancient tome in his hand. "We'll talk. Just not right now."

She could feel her heart sink with sadness and hurt at how closed off he had suddenly become. It was as if the moment of vulnerability he had shown her before was a necessity from him, stemming from his accidental glimpse into a part of her that she wished to keep hidden from the world, and now it was gone.

Taking his hand in hers, she noticed a subtle tremble that remained in him, and together, they vanished from his Manor in a blink.