Sprained Ankles

The next time Hermione saw Percy, he was holding the elevator doors open for her in their building. It was mere coincidence they had caught each other, but Hermione was beginning to think coincidences were her favorite type of circumstance.

She had just been on a run, a long distance from her flat. At first, it was for the endorphins she would release, maybe to waste away the hours she had nothing to do with. Lately, it's been more of an escape. A means to her own thoughts, because nobody tried speaking to someone who's running.

"Thank you," she said breathlessly, a little flushed from her run across the hallways.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked, his sea-green eyes shining with concern. "You seem a bit out of breath." Hermione felt her neck warm, grateful she was already blushing from her run.

"I'm positively amazing. I've just been from a jog," she explained, and Percy smiled slightly, nodding his head. "Have you found your dog yet?" Hermione asked politely, remembering their last encounter.

"Not yet," Percy replied, looking at Hermione. "Hopefully she'll come back in a week or so." He seemed sure, like it was an inevitability more than a possibility.

"What, she's done this before?" Hermione asked, shocked. Percy only bobbed his head in confirmation, before the doors opened on Hermione's floor. "Well, this is me," she said, and Percy nodded again.

"I know," he said as she stepped out into the corridor.

"I'll, uhm, stop by if I see your dog."

Percy smiled, before the doors closed.

Bloody charming. Hermione thought, stripping down to take a shower. She felt all sorts of gross and sticky after sweating. Half an hour later, she was sat on the edge of her bed, taking out her wand to dry her hair. She sighed, looking around. There was a lot she had mulled over during her run, from Percy Jackson's suspicion to Harry's warning, but she hadn't been able to make sense of any of it.

There was a letter on her desk, right by the window. The paper was easily not from the muggle world; who uses parchment nowadays? The handwriting was small, but each words was written widely, as if the writer was trying to take up as much space as possible. Ginny.

Hermione,

How are you doing? It's been a long time since you've ran away from me. I just, kind of missed you maybe. I dunno, people miss their best friends when they leave unexpectedly, right? Anyway, Harry's said he's been over recently. He said you looked kind of bummed out, and I thought maybe you could come back? Harry's got an open spot with the aurors if you want, Merlin knows you're perfectly capable of it. I just really missed you, Mione.

Is it weird with Ron now? Yes. Definitely. Harry's stopped speaking to him when he found out about Lavender. We want you back here Hermione. Sorry it's taken me so long to do something about it.

Reply soon, alright?

Ginny.

Hermione smiled to herself, before grabbing a piece of paper and a pen. It's been a while since she's used parchment and a quill, and the only way to get this mailed was by the regular post—she hadn't even an owl to her name. Still, it was the thought that counted, right?

Ginny,

It's me. I just read your letter. I don't really have an owl. In fact, I've been rather impartial to animals since Crookshanks died, but I needed to reply to you. I'm definitely going to come back, Gin. Just not now, I've got a friend's wedding in less than three weeks to attend. You could come over here and go with me if you'd like, I've got plenty of room. I think I'll take up that Auror offer, if I could still fight. I guess we'll see. How is Ron, though? Not that I still love him, but it's an honest question. I'm so glad you wrote, Gin. You've really made my day.

Hermione .

Was it too short? Hermione shook her head. I've said all I could. An explanation for taking off like she had would be a conversation in person. She sealed the letter in an envelope, before heading downstairs and slipping it into her mailbox. There was lot Ginny had opened her eyes to, namely that she was missed. Her friends missed her.

I'll go back to England.

"There's nothing here for me anyways," she mumbled, before turning around and slamming right into Percy. She felt a sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she knew she'd sprained it.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, before helping her up. "I'm so sorry."

"No, it's my mistake, I didn't look where I was going." Hermione's voice was calm, but the sight of Percy made her head spin. Her ankle didn't even hurt that much—she had endured much worse at the Malfoy Manor back in what was supposed to be her seventh year at Hogwarts.

"Oh god," he said, watching her trip as she tried to stand up. "It's broken, isn't it?" he asked. A crease formed in his eyebrow, that Hermione, in her daze, thought was cute. Hermione shook her head, before twitching her ankle slightly.

"Just sprained, I think. It's fine, I'll just put some ice on it," she said, staring at his hand around her arm carefully. He didn't seem convinced.

"I've got a first aid kit upstairs, I could-," he shook his head. "I could, wrap it in a gauze or something. I can fix it." Hermione smiled at Percy. His eyebrows all scrunched up together, his eyes holding a quiet panic, he was adorable.

"It's really okay," Hermione said, making her voice as soothing as she could. "I'll be fine." Percy only shook his head, putting her arm around him.

"At least let me help you back up to your room."

At Hermione's apartment, Percy seated Hermione on her couch, before running to the kitchen. Hermione heard water running, and furrowed her eyebrows. Water? Percy came back with a pail of water, smiling slightly. "I know how to fix your ankle," Percy said, kneeling down in front of her. Hermione leaned forward, nodding.

"I know you do."

He shook his head, looking back from the water to Hermione. "Annabeth," he whispered, "Annabeth showed me what I could do. I can. I can fix it."

Annabeth? "Who's Annabeth?" Hermione asked. Percy's eyes widened.

"Nobody," he said, insisted, and Hermione let it drop.

Percy's voice went quiet again, saying softly, "I can fix it, but you have to trust me, and you can't look." Hermione bit her lip, before nodding.

"Okay."

Hermione closed her eyes, and she felt something cold on her ankle. Water? It wrapped itself around her foot, gradually turning cooler. It felt like the Devil's Snare she sank in back in her first year, with the way the water coiled.

"I'm tempted to take a look," Hermione said, smiling slightly, but she felt Percy's hand on her knee.

"No," he said hurriedly. "No. I can do this." The cold moved around her ankle, as if dancing along her skin. Something about it made Hermione feel more peaceful. Sleepier. Then, she felt a sharp pain by her leg, before it became warm again. "I think that's it," he muttered, looking tired.

Hermione opened her eyes, bending forward as she touched her ankle. Healed. Hermione shook her head.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked. Percy saw fascination in her eyes, glittered with just a bit of suspicion.

"My ex-girlfriend taught me," he said. So Annabeth is his ex-girlfriend. Hermione thought the first thing she could: Annabeth was a witch.

"And this Annabeth," Hermione challenged, her face inches from his. "Is she a muggle?"