Author's Note: Not DH compatible. Please R & R, I love to hear from my readers-comments, complaints, compliments, suggestions, or any random non-sense that may have popped up in your mind while you were reading this story.

This is a remake of my story-Numb. Hope you enjoy it!

HUGE THANKS TO: My beta, Aglipseofthemoon, for editting!!!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of MOI. No copyright infringement is intended.

I can't seem

To find myself again

My walls are closing in

(without a sense of confidence and I'm convinced that there's just too much pressure to take)

I've felt this way before

So insecure

-Crawling, Linkin Park

Oh how she longed to feel something other than helplessness that had consumed her life. The feeling of doom looming over her like a black rain cloud.

She sat there, with her legs drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped around them, and her head resting on her knees.

There was blood all over her. Her hands were covered in it and the now dry and cracked maroon colored liquid was splattered all over her and the beautiful silk, golden robes she wore to every battle - because she could die any second, why not be dressed in your best?

She wanted to cry so badly, but she couldn't. She longed to feel a salty tear stream down her face, but she couldn't. She was numb.

She wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, that she couldn't stand this any longer - she needed someone to just save her. To stop her from going mad.

She was never a quitter. She was the Hermione Granger. When things got hard, you are supposed to push on. To move on with that part of your life and burn the bridges to the past that needed to be burned. But she couldn't.

It was cruel that she had seen the things she saw. To have watched your friends die before you. To have their blood splattered over you and that battlefield you're on.

She couldn't forget the looks on their faces. Her memories played in her head, and she could see that look everytime she closed her eyes. She had learned not to blink much, and to exhaust herself - so that when she slept her sleep was dreamless.

Their screams echoed in her ears, and she could remember the noise so well, that it became as common to her as her heart beat was. It made her nauseous. And her vision blur.

She welcomed the darkness. The black of the night was comforting like sitting next to a fire after coming in from a bitter cold winter's day. The voices were hushed, and the images gone. Nothingness to nothingness.

She shut her eyes, squeezing them close, and enjoyed the fact that she was able to do so, without envisioning someone's face twisted in horror and pain.

She felt empty. And alone, even though just feet away from her, there was an entire camp of wizards and witches.

They had left her. Her boys had left her with these people she barely knew, in the middle of a war between good and bad. But what bothered her the most about it - she never got the chance to tell them good-bye for they had left in the night, with most of the Order in tack.

Because in her heart, she was almost completely sure that they were going to lose this war. And she knew in the back of her mind that they would all die fighting in this goddamn war - maybe not tomorrow, but sometime before they were actually supposed to go.

She didn't know how many times she had looked up to the sky and begged God or whomever is up there to save them. Because she couldn't stand the thought of living when they weren't, or trying to make it through this war if they were gone.

"Granger" a familiar voice sounded, but she ignored him even when he reached a hand out to pet at her wild curls, which were a mess - matted down from sweat and blood.

He removed his hand from her hair, and kneeled down in front of her. He cupped her face in his hands before he said in a vocie as calm as he could muster, "Granger, look at me."

She gingerly lifted her eyes from the forest to look him in dead in the eye. She hadn't expected the heated look in his eyes. Those beautiful dark liquid silver eyes, like pools of water, that she could drown in if she stared too long.

"What do you want Malfoy?" the words came out more timid and squeaky then they were supposed to. He rolled his eyes at her attempt to snap at him, for he knew she was weakened.