Disclaimer: Not my characters.

This story is part of my Hermione/Theo mini-series entitled: Of Writing and Falling in Love. Each story/one-shot has a separate plot and characterisation from the others, dependant on the prompt I am given.

Prompt: Must use the phrase 'Post hoc ergo propter hoc.'

Of Memories and Waiting.

18.

She couldn't make the figure out, what with the darkness spread over his face, but she'd know that voice anywhere. Sitting bolt upright, she winced as her arm jarred against the wall.

"Theo?" The figure stopped in his tracks.

"Hermione?" Relief spread warmly through the tone in his speech. He strode over, but paused, as if unsure of what step to take next. Hermione realised that their last coherent encounter had been far from pleasant – in fact, she thought that there might still have been a dent in the wall from where she'd thrown the book at him. Swallowing, she slowly brought her legs to dangle over the side of his bed.

Standing up shakily, she all but ran the few steps across the room to meet him, wrapping her good arm as tightly around him as she possibly could. The earlier tears that had formed seemed to come back with a vengeance, threatening to spill over her cheeks and onto his chest. He exhaled loudly, drawing his arms around her like a vice; his head bent to kiss the top of her hair.

"Hermione – " he started, before she interrupted.

"Theodore, I'm so sorry! I should have heard you out, and not just assumed that everything Kingsley said was a fact. I was just so frustrated, and needed someone to blame for anything, just so I could vent – and then they brought you back from that mission, and…" She lost the battle with her tears, burying her face in his clothing. He rubbed her back soothingly in small circles, waiting for her to finish. Once she'd mostly stopped, wiping her eyes gently, he opened his mouth to speak, but she covered it with a finger, indicating that she hadn't finished yet.

"I thought you were going to die, and I didn't know what to do." Biting her lip, she peered up at him, before quietly asking, "Can you forgive me?"

One, two, three seconds of agonising silence. Then; gruffly,

"For this, yes."

She sobbed once in relief, before realising what he'd said. Pushing him away, she asked,

"What do you mean, 'for this'?"

His eyes were hard. "Do you have any idea how terrifying it was for your portkey to come back, but with someone else?" He grasped her shoulders, as if trying to impress the point. Hermione was baffled.

"I'm sorry?"

He made a noise exceedingly close to a growl, rumbling in his throat.

"Your portkey, Hermione! We knew precisely which ones were arriving back at headquarters by the tracking system you placed on them. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the room, expecting to see you, and instead finding Hannah bloody Abbott?! Do you realise what that did to me? To Potter?! He was going spare, dreaming up many different scenarios, each worse than the last, especially when all the portkeys had arrived back and you weren't there?"

Paling, she stuttered, "I – I didn't think." He clasped her tighter, thumbs caressing her just a little too tightly.

"No, you didn't." He let out a great sigh. "Hermione, sometime being noble is the right thing to do, and saving someone else's live is certainly part of that, but you have to remember that your life is more valuable than you think. You're essential for morale, for research, and especially for Potter – I genuinely don't know how he'd cope if you were dead." She blinked away the reappearance of her tears, but he caught one slipping down her cheek. Looking at him with equal parts fear and curiosity, she dared to ask her question.

"…and you?" He was silent for a moment, as if indecisive about what to say. Tilting her chin, she could see the honestly in his face, radiating through his actions.

"I – " he exhaled heavily, before steeling himself, screwing his eyes tightly shut as if he couldn't say the words unless he couldn't see her, "I need you too. It scared me just how much. Please, Hermione, don't ever do that again." Before she could reply he reached down and kissed her. Softly, sweetly he caressed her lips, sliding one hand down her arm. Stopping suddenly at her pained groan, he looked at her wrist, then at her. In a carefully even voice, he asked her what had happened. Debating for a moment, she decided just to tell him everything.

He was very pale by the time she'd finished recounting her tale, shakily running a hand through his hair. She chewed on her lip, nervous as to what he would say.

Choosing not to comment on what she'd just said, he instead clasped her good hand, and guided her gently to the door, saying,

"Come on. We need to get your wrist and bruises healed." Frowning slightly, she followed him a little apprehensively. Since they were now in the open, she decided to not resume the conversation until they were somewhere more private.

When they arrived at the make-shift hospital room, she was greeted immediately and taken away to have her arm seen to. Losing her grip on Theodore's hand, she turned to look at him, but he was gone.

08/06/14

AN: It's been an absolutely hellish year for me, I'd like to thank everyone for their patience as I continue to recover, and to reassure everyone that this story will be finished, as my writing is back up to the standard I'd like it to be.