Trussed

Theo closed up his accounting book, finished with his meager closing procedures for the day. He heard the bell tinkle lightly from the door and sighed. He'd forgotten to lock the door.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” he called, hurrying through the stacks to cut off the late straggler.

When he turned the last corner he didn't have time to register a fist connecting with his jaw.

Theo staggered back into the shelf behind him, and then the wind flew out of his lungs as his attacker punched him in the stomach.

Instead of doubling over, strong hands held him up by the collar of his shirt, and he realized he was looking into the steel eyes of Draco Malfoy.

“Fucking… Blaise…” He gasped the words as he tried to catch his breath.

“That's right, fucking Blaise.” Draco growled, and punched him across the face again. This time he let Theo fall to the floor, watching him spit out a mouthful of blood.

“This is terribly muggle of you.” He wiped his mouth, chest heaving, and didn't bother attempting to get up. “Do you feel better now?”

“No,” the blonde wizard said icily, and kicked him in the side. Theo grunted, and anger of his own started to bubble forth.

“What the hell did he tell you?” He hissed, holding his bruised and possibly broken ribs.

“Exactly what you told him.” Draco clenched his jaw. “I read between the lines enough to figure out that you manipulated an emotionally fragile girl into letting you fuck her.”

“Oh, the girl who is emotionally fragile because you repeatedly raped her in between torture sessions with Voldemort?” Theo retorted, and his opponent paled. “Yeah, I know all about that.”

“You don't know anything.”

“I know that you think you did it to protect her.” His voice was getting stronger now, with conviction. “I know she is deep in PTSD over it, to the point where she freaked out, tried to force ME to have sex with her, and then threw me out.” He tapped his temple as if thinking hard. “And now you're here kicking the shit out of me because you think I hurt her? Are you her keeper now? You care enough to have Blaise keep tabs on her but not enough to get her the help she needs from being traumatized-”

Draco screamed and cut him off, not wanting to acknowledge the truth.

“Knowing you, you're in denial of all that while simultaneously hating yourself for it,” Theo continued, unperturbed by the interruption. “You're disgustingly predictable, Malfoy.”

“You didn't see me coming,” the exhausted wizard sounded petulant now more than angry.

“Idiotic of me.” An admission. “But it's clear as day to me now what's going on, and I should have known better.”

“Than to talk to Blaise?” Draco scowled. “Or to date Granger?”

“Both.” Theo laughed bitterly. “Always the spoiled child, never sharing his-”

CRACK!

This time he was sure one of his ribs was broken, and he was very tired of this charade.

“Will you just ask me what you came to ask?” Theo groaned, wanting this to end so he could retrieve his wand from the back and fix himself up.

“Where is she?” Draco wasn't surprised in the slightest that his former housemate knew what he wanted.

He gave the address to Hermione’s flat, and shakily got to his feet. “If you really want to help her, drop her off at St. Mungo’s. It's what I should have done.”

Draco swept out of the store without replying, but Theo’s words stuck with him. If it was that bad, why weren't her friends taking care of her? Why hadn't Saint Potter gotten help for her?