Pain. Searing, stinging, burning pain was all Hermione felt as she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. It was three o'clock in the afternoon and she still hadn't managed to pull herself from the comfort and protection of her bed. She'd hardly slept – her mind racing with thoughts of the previous night's ordeal, keeping her wide awake and itching at her aching skin.
Hermione had heard Theo leave the bathroom about ten minutes after she had. There was no conversation – merely the sound of footsteps trailing from the bathroom door to Malfoy's room. She wondered if Theo had carried him – concerned that Hermione might follow through on her threat to retrieve Madam Pomfrey. But the door to Malfoy's room closed and Hermione didn't hear a sound for the rest of the night.
Hermione desperately wanted to owl Harry and tell him that she wasn't feeling well – to get him to call off their plans for her birthday. But the pain in her arm was growing so unbearable that she welcomed the idea of any distraction. So, she pulled herself out of bed and started getting ready, thinking that she'd head into Hogsmeade early and browse the stores before meeting the others at The Three Broomsticks. Slipping into a pair of dark blue jeans and a white tank top, she added a pale pink jumper to ensure her arm was sufficiently covered. She had bandaged it before bed, hoping that a layer of dittany would sooth the constant ache. But it didn't. So, she persisted with wearing long sleeves and hoped that the weather would stay cool enough for her to not be too bothered by it.
When Hermione eventually stepped outside her room, she noticed Theo in the corner of the common space. He was facing the wall, methodically making himself a cup of tea. At the sound of her door, he turned to face her and the pair stared at each other uncomfortably for a few moments.
"Morning," Theo eventually mumbled, picking up his mug of tea and tilting it in a greeting gesture.
"Afternoon, actually," Hermione corrected.
"Hadn't noticed," Theo returned, glaring at the clock and then back at Hermione.
Another uncomfortable silence fell over the pair and Hermione swallowed hard. She didn't like the tension that loomed so obviously in the air. Theo was becoming a more bearable presence in Hermione's life – so much so that she almost enjoyed his company. But last night had put a strange wedge in their relationship that neither felt fully able to manage. She wanted to ask about Malfoy – how he was, if he'd recovered. But for some reason, she couldn't find the words.
"Well, if you'll excuse me," Hermione eventually said, heading in the direction of the exit.
"Where are you off to?" Theo inquired before taking a long sip of tea.
"Hogsmeade," she responded. "For a birthday party."
"A birthday party?" Theo echoed. "Who's birthday."
"Mine," Hermione responded shortly. And before Theo had the chance to respond, she exited the dormitory and allowed the door to close behind her with a loud thud.
Still with plenty of time to spare, Hermione decided to walk to Hogsmeade. On her way out of the castle, she walked adjacent to Hagrid's hut, catching sight of smoke bellowing from the chimney and a baby dragon hopping happily around the paddock. Suddenly, a red headed figure appeared in the distance and Hermione raised her arm to wave at the older Weasley.
"Hermione!" Charlie called to her. "Is that invitation to The Three Broomsticks still open?"
"Of course!" Hermione called back. "I'm heading there now if you'd like to walk with me."
"Sounds good!" Charlie returned, briefly darting inside Hagrid's hut and then reappearing with a brown leather jacket tossed over his forearm. Charlie ran up the hill to greet her and they shared a brief hug as he wished her a happy birthday. As he pulled away, the inside of her arm accidentally grazed his shoulder and she let out a small hiss of pain.
"You okay?" Charlie questioned, confused by her reaction.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Hermione responded. "I burned my arm in potions a few days ago. Haven't gotten around to healing it properly yet." Lying had become so easy these days – so normal.
Charlie didn't look convinced but he didn't press the issue. They set off together, the crisp autumn air carrying the scent of pine and distant woodsmoke. Charlie regaled Hermione with tales of his latest adventures, describing a particularly unruly Hebridean Black he'd been working with. Hermione listened intently, grateful for the distraction, but her mind kept drifting back to the searing pain in her arm, finding herself paranoid at the prospect of bleeding through her bandage.
Having momentarily tuned out of the conversation, Hermione was surprised to find herself standing outside Flourish and Blotts with Charlie holding the door open for her. "What are we doing here?" she questioned.
"Well, I didn't have time to get you a gift," Charlie admitted. "So, I thought you might want to look around here – pick something you like and I'll get it for you."
Hermione frowned, "you don't have to get me a gift, Charlie."
"I know," he laughed. "But I want to."
Hermione hesitated for a moment, torn between gratitude and a nagging guilt she couldn't quite shake. "Alright," she finally said, her lips curving into a small smile. "But only if it's something reasonable."
Charlie grinned, stepping inside the cozy bookshop with her. The warm scent of parchment and ink filled the air and Hermione instantly felt at ease among the towering shelves of books. She managed to spend over and hour in the bookshop, carefully looking over the blurb of each one that interested her. She kept a couple of options tucked under her arm but returned them when she found the one she wanted. It was a heavy leather-bound book with the title The Art of the Accursed: A Study of Magical Maledictions.
"Hmm, looks interesting," Charlie observed, looking over her shoulder at the rich dark green cover.
"It does," Hermione agreed. "I might find this useful for my Defence Against the Dark Arts class." Another lie. Or maybe a half truth. Hermione was far more interested in the contents of the book for her own reasons, rather than that of her quickly approaching lesson – though perhaps it could be useful for that too. "Are you sure you don't mind?" Hermione questioned one last time.
"It's my pleasure," Charlie insisted, taking the leather book from her hands. Hermione noticed Charlie sneak a glance at her arm. She quickly adjusted the sleeve of her jumper but the movement wasn't lost on him. "You know," he started as the pair walked to the counter. "If that burns bothering you, I've got a salve back at Hagrid's that works wonders. Dragons aren't exactly gentle creatures, so I always keep some on hand."
Hermione gave a noncommittal hum, hoping he'd drop the subject. Charlie greeted the shopkeeper and handed her the book. While she wrapped it in crisp brown paper, Charlie pressed, "I can have a look if you'd like. It really seems to be bothering you."
"I appreciate it, Charlie," Hermione said, carefully dodging the offer. "But I'm fine, really."
To her relief, he didn't press any further and the two left the bookshop and headed in the direction of The Three Broomsticks.
The atmosphere in the pub was lively – bursts of laughter and the clinking of tankards punctuated the hum of chatter that filled the room. It was typical for a Saturday night at The Three Broomsticks. Harry had reserved a booth upstairs, away from prying eyes that still enjoyed ogling, especially when all three members of the trio were in the same room. Fame, it seemed, wasn't something that faded quickly. Ron was surprised but pleased to see Charlie and the brothers immediately got to catching up. Neville, Ginny and Luna had also come along, making for an abundance of animated conversation.
The butterbeer started things off, but as the evening progressed, someone suggested moving on to something stronger – probably Ginny, who was still enjoying her new legal right to drink alcohol. Before long, a tray of glasses filled with amber liquid was delivered to the table. Harry made a brief toast and a chorus of birthday wishes flooded the table as the group of friends downed their drink.
The firewhisky burned as it went down, but the burn quickly gave way to a pleasant warmth that spread through Hermione's body, temporarily distracting her form any further pain in her arm. Ginny, ever the competitive Gryffindor, challenged Charlie to a drinking contest which he promptly refused on the grounds that she would fail miserably and probably end up in hospital.
At some point, Hermione managed to engage Harry in conversation about her Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson – to which he boldly suggested that she teach the class how to cast the Patronus charm. And maybe the alcohol had already gotten to her but she found herself agreeing that it was a great idea. But the conversation was cut short by the arrival of a birthday cake – a beautiful vanilla sponge cake topped with fresh cream and a dozen delectable looking strawberries.
As the night wore on, the table filled with empty glasses and discarded napkins. Ginny's cheeks were flushed as she leaned against Harry, her arm draped around his shoulder. While most of the guest were merely tipsy, Ginny had clearly indulged a little further. Hermione, meanwhile, had become decidedly animated.
"That was the best cake I've ever had," she announced enthusiastically as the group began to make their way outside. Upon bidding Harry and Ron goodnight, the remaining five headed back in the direction of Hogwarts. The cool night air was bracing as the group walked through the quiet streets of Hogsmeade. The village was largely deserted now, with only a few stragglers wandering between the closing shops and pubs.
Ginny, who was leaning heavily on Luna for support, giggled uncontrollably. "I think," she slurred, "that cake was enchanted. I feel… buoyant." She attempted to demonstrate by lifting one leg and nearly toppled over but Charlie caught her arm just in time.
"Buoyant, sure," Charlie said with a chuckle. "More like butterbeer-soaked."
Neville, who had been walking a few paces ahead, turned to grin at them. "Ginny, maybe you should sit down for a bit before we get to the castle. Don't want Filch catching you like this."
"Filch!" Ginny scoffed, waving a hand dramatically. "Filch couldn't catch a bludger if it was flying at his head." She paused, the frowned. "Wait… what was I saying?"
Hermione burst into laughter, her arm draped over Charlie's for balance as she tried to regain composure. Despite the absurdity of Ginny's drunken state, and the cool buzz that ran through her own system, the night felt warm and light-hearted. Even the lingering ache in her arm seemed less significant under the glow of their shared friendship. Hermione dreaded the prospect of having to return to her room and face reality again but at least Theo and Malfoy would be well and truly asleep by now.
Eventually, they reached the castle, its grand silhouette rising against the starlit sky. The entrance hall was dimly lit, and their footsteps echoed softly as they crossed the threshold. "Ginny, I think I better walk you back to Gryffindor Tower," Charlie said, the tone of a concerned big brother present in his voice.
Ginny waved him off, though her wobbling stance didn't inspire much confidence. "I'll be fine. Neville's gonna walk me and Luna back to our common rooms, aren't you Neville?" Neville confirmed Ginny's plan and reassured Charlie that he'd get both girls back safely. "You should probably walk Hermione back though," Ginny added. "She has to deal with the ssssnake."
Hermione rolled her eyes and a loud sound of dejection escaped her lips at the mention of Malfoy. Despite her objections, Charlie agreed that he should walk Hermione back to her dormitory and the two set off in the opposite direction after bidding the others goodnight.
"You remember where you're going," Hermione observed as Charlie led the way through the winding hallways.
Charlie chuckled. "I spent many a late night wondering these halls."
"Oh?" Hermione drawled; her curiosity heightened by the firewhisky still buzzing in her veins. "So far from Gryffindor Tower? What exactly were you doing, Mr Prefect?"
Charlie flushed and, under the effects of his own tipsiness admitted, "I had quite the fling with the Head Girl my seventh year."
"Charlie Weasley!" Hermione gasped dramatically, slapping him lightly on the arm. "That is not very prefect-like behaviour." She tried to look stern but the edges of her mouth twitched with laughter.
Charlie grinned and held his hands up in mock surrender, grinning. "I won't argue with that," he laughed.
There was something innately endearing about the older Weasley. And Hermione wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, still buzzing through her system but she suddenly found him very attractive. "You know…" she started, her voice softening as her words slowed. "You're actually…" Her thoughts trailed off, interrupted by a sharp pain shooting through her arm. The butterflies that had risen in her chest moments ago vanished as she winced, pressing her right thumb into her forearm to soothe the ache. "Well, it was nice while it lasted," she muttered under her breath.
"Hmm?" Charlie responded.
"Nothing," Hermione replied quickly, waving her hand dismissively. "I think I just need some fresh air." As if on cue, the pair rounded the corner to the heads dormitory and Hermione found herself walking towards the balcony. "Care to join me?" she questioned, uncharacteristically confident.
"Hermione, you really should be getting to bed," Charlie countered. "As should I if I want to stave off a headache tomorrow."
"Oh, come on," Hermione complained. "Just for a couple of minutes."
Charlie sighed but agreed to follow Hermione onto the balcony. The cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth still buzzing in both their systems. Hermione leaned against the balustrade, letting the breeze cool her flushed cheeks. Her arm continued to radiate heat and she was positive that it had started to bleed through the bandage. In her previous experiences on this balcony, she found her arm strangely comforted by the illicit activities that went on. She found herself craving one of Malfoy's cigarettes but she kept that information to herself. "It's nice out here, isn't it?" she said, turning around to face him.
"It is," Charlie agreed.
"Such a lovely view," she added, with continued alcohol induced confidence.
Charlie laughed and furrowed his brow. "It's the middle of the night–" Before Charlie could finish his sentence, Hermione had crashed her lips to his.
Charlie froze, taken aback by her sudden boldness. "Hermione," she said incredulously, pulling away. "I'm seven years older than you."
"Six technically," she retorted. "I just had a birthday." And yes, Hermione knew that argument made no sense but she needed Charlie to know that she wanted this. And she desperately hoped he wanted it too.
"It's not that simple, Hermione," Charlie responded.
"Why not?" she challenged, stepping closer. "We're both adults. Why can't it be simple?"
Charlie didn't respond but he didn't back away either. His eyes met hers and for a brief moment, flickered over her lips. And that was all Hermione needed to lean back in to kiss him again. His hands found her waist as he kissed her back, his initial hesitation melting away. The kiss deepened quickly, their tentative connection giving way to a surge of passion. Hermione's hands slid up Charlie's chest, tangling in the fabric of his shirt as she pressed herself closer to him. Her heart pounded in her chest and the cool night air seemed to vanish under the heat of the moment.
Charlie groaned softly against her lips, his hands tightening their grip on her waist as he pulled her flush against him. There was no hesitation now – just the raw intensity of two people caught up in something far more passionate than they'd anticipated.
Hermione's fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, her nails grazing his skin and sending a shiver down his spine. He responded by pressing her back gently against the balustrade, his lips moving hungrily against hers. When Hermione tilted her head to deepen the kiss further, Charlie obliged, his hands moving further past her waist. Her breath hitched and she let out a soft, involuntary moan.
"Hermione," he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with desire.
"Don't stop," she whispered back, her hands sliding up into his hair. She tugged lightly, eliciting a low growl from him that only spurred her on. Charlie's lips left hers to trail along her jawline, moving down to the sensitive skin of her neck. Hermione's head fell back as her eyes fluttered closed, her entire body alight with sensation.
"Merlin," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "You're making this impossible."
"Good," she replied breathlessly, her hands slipping under the hem of his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Charlie's lips found hers again, the kiss now fierce and unrestrained, their movements increasingly desperate.
Just as Hermione's hands slipped further under Charlie's shirt, they were interrupted by the sound of the balcony door opening.
"Shit, sorry," came the voice of Theo as he took in the scene before him. "Didn't realise this spot had become a commodity." Hermione and Charlie pulled away from each other, both flushing deeply as they immediately began to sober up. Theo raised an eyebrow at the pair and stepped backwards, reaching for the door. "I'll come back later…"
"No, Theo, it's fine," Hermione stopped him, trying to push past the embarrassment of having been caught.
Theo paused and glanced back over the pair. "Shit, Granger. What happened?" he questioned abruptly, looking in the direction of her arm. Hermione looked down and realised that she had bled through her sleeve. A large, dark patch of red liquid was slowly trailing through the fibres of her jumper.
"Merlin, Hermione," Charlie added as he too noticed the stain. "Was that my fault?"
"No!" Hermione quickly confirmed. "No, Charlie. Not at all. It's this stupid burn – I must have accidentally torn the skin."
"Let me help," Charlie said comfortingly. And if she hadn't just been caught in such a mortifying situation, with the knowledge that her scar had opened up again – she may have found his words comforting.
"I'm fine," Hermione insisted. Another lie. "I should go and clean up. I'll come by Hagrid's tomorrow to get that salve from you, okay?"
Charlie once again seemed unconvinced but nodded. "Good night," she added as she walked towards the door, pressing past Theo and returning to her dormitory.
Hermione's arm was a mess. A bloody, burning, horrible mess. The bandage, saturated with dark crimson, clung stubbornly to her skin before peeling away to reveal the damage beneath. The jagged letters carved into her flesh seemed to pulse with malevolence, each stroke of the hateful word raw and inflamed. The wounds gaped, their ragged edges slick with blood that oozed slowly, pooling into tiny, glistening beads. The skin around the cuts was swollen and angry, the flesh a patchwork of bruises and fiery red, as if the very letter burned their message into her soul.
She couldn't believe how stupid she'd been - kissing Charlie Weasley! What was she searching for? Some kind of relief from this pain that never fully ceased? If that was it, then it had failed miserably. Tears pooled in her eyes and she could feel her breathing quicken, the sign another panic attack was threatening to form. But her spiralling thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Granger?"
Dammit Theo, just leave me alone.
"Are you decent? I'm coming in," he insisted, twisting the door handle.
Hermione only had a second to reach for a spare bandage before Theo was standing before her. She pressed the gauze into her arm to conceal the wound, causing the stinging sensation to radiate further through her skin. But the bandage immediately flooded with more blood, saturating it so intensely that the fabric was rendered useless.
"Are you okay?" Theo asked. And for a moment, Hermione thought she heard genuine concern in his voice.
"Why do you care?" she questioned dismissively.
"That's a stupid question," he responded.
"Is it?" she countered.
Theo's gaze dropped to the soaked bandage in her hand, and his expression darkened. Without asking, he moved closer, his movements deliberate, yet cautious. "Let me see," he said, his voice quieter now but no less firm. It reminded her of the interaction she'd had with Malfoy the week before. Both Slytherin's so insistent on helping her despite her insistence otherwise. She wasn't used to this - needing to be helped.
"I can handle it," Hermione snapped, trying to turn her arm away.
"Clearly," he deadpanned, gesturing to the blood that had begun to drip onto the floor. His sharp tone softened as he added, "please, Granger. If you're hurting yourself, I can help-"
"I'm not hurting myself," she interrupted firmly.
"Then show me," he insisted again. For a long moment, she hesitated, torn between pride and exhaustion. "I'm not going anywhere. So, you can either show me, or stand there and let it bleed until you pass out. Either way, I'll see."
She sighed frustratedly. She hadn't told a soul about the condition of her arm. As far as Harry and Ron knew, it had healed just fine after the war - she only wore long sleeves to conceal the remnants of the horrible slur that scarred her skin. She didn't want to show Theo - but at the same time, she desperately wanted to show Theo. Maybe if someone knew. Someone who didn't care so deeply about her. Maybe it would alleviate some of the anxiety that was intertwined so closely with it.
Finally, she relented, her shoulders slumping as she held out her arm, allowing the bloodied bandage to fall away.
"Fucking hell," Theo muttered as he took in the sight before him. He glanced at her face, his steel grey eyes locking onto hers. "This isn't just a cut… this is-"
"I know what it is," Hermione interrupted, her voice tight. She didn't need sympathy. Not now. Not from him.
"Right," Theo said tersely, focusing on the task at hand. He proceeded to clean the wound, dropping enough dittany on each letter to cease the persistent bleeding. Hermione hissed at the sting, jerking her arm instinctively, but Theo didn't flinch. His motions were familiar – practiced. And as he proceeded to wrap a fresh bandage carefully around her arm, Hermione found herself wondering how many times he'd done something like this before.
Hermione exhaled a shaky breath, the searing pain finally ebbing into a dull ache. "Thanks," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Consider it my apology for the way I treaded you last night," he replied, securing the bandage. Hermione replied with a small nod.
"I'm going to go and get some sleep," she informed him, wiping her tear-stained face with the back of her hand. "Good night, Theo."
"Good night," he returned. Hermione stepped out of the bathroom and Theo followed. As she approached her bedroom door he added, "Oh, and Hermione… Happy Birthday."