It had been a few months since she had left Hogwarts. She was 18, there was nothing anyone could do about it – and she didn't have to worry about anyone judging her where she was now.

She thought she'd be okay without Harry – she was tough, after all. They all knew that Hogwarts would change after Dumbledore's passing, but different to that extent? They could never have imagined it. None of them could. Even with the Order inside the school, darkness was creeping in. What hurt her most was that she couldn't do anything about it, no matter how hard she tried. She was head girl, but she butted heads with everyone, and with no one to vent to, her anger got the best of her. She was in detention constantly, shouting and screaming at the top of her lungs, and had her title revoked and given to a pureblood. Gone was her swotty, good girl image within the school, leaving a void that she could never seem to fill.

Over the summer, her rose-tinted glasses had been stolen from her, forcing her to see the world as it really was. Harsh. Not only was she told that she was to be placed at Hogwarts rather than looking for the horcruxes with her so-called best friends, but the so-called love of her life turned out to be nothing more than a typical rat of a man. Days after the attack, after she lost everything, when she needed him the most, she found him in the arms of another woman. Who was now carrying his child and being given special protection from the Order. Her? She had been forgotten – well, almost.

After the attack, after she saw them together, she turned cold. No one could talk to her about it – she had already put that all behind her, unhealthily so. All she had left was her brains and her apathy towards nearly everyone. There were still some emotions in there – but ones only associated with the darker side of the emotional spectrum. Her lack of happiness, her lack of ties, made her perfect for various loose ends that needed "tying up". She spent a week in Romania with the Order, putting down a Vampire clan – a clan siding with Voldemort. The first time she shot one with her crossbow, it stung. What made her different to those monsters, killing because she was told to? But it slowly got easier, and the questions were replaced with apathy. She did as she was told, went back to the base, slept, ate and repeated. If her transformation from the bubbly, positive girl had not been apparent before, it definitely was on her return to London. The word 'distant' didn't really cover her behavior. No matter how hard Harry and Ginny tried, they couldn't get through to her – not that she thought they were trying very hard at all. They were young and in love, and that was all fine and dandy, but when a friend was going through something so… terrible, she'd like to think that she would spend time with the broken person before her, rather than sucking the face off her other half. But that was just her. No, that was the girl before everything came crashing down. She didn't really care any more. They became more distant, from sheer laziness and unwilling on her behalf, with this repeating throughout all her friendships. She withdrew from the family meetings with the Weasley's – she couldn't stand to see his face anyway, - backed down from anything that wasn't necessary, and locked herself in her room, only coming down for food. She didn't care that she appeared like a petulant teenager to Lavender or to anyone else – she was done with them all and wanted nothing more than to never see some of them again.

After she came back, the Order forgot about her unless they needed someone handy with a crossbow. They had scholars for everything else, why would they want an unqualified girl to help out? She was sent back to school with Ginny, with the sole mission of finding out anything she could to help Harry. Ron? She didn't care about him in the slightest. At first, she focused on her school-work as much as she could, skipping meals and sleep to keep up with her mission and her grades. Then she started to care less. What good would her education do her in the real world? A good job could never make her life any better. All the money in Gringotts would do nothing. The two things she wanted had been taken away from her in the space of days. She stopped shooting her hand up to answer questions in lessons, homework was done as basically as possible, if done at all, and she only attended the lessons she needed. She was a filthy mudblood in this world now, and her education meant nothing, so she slipped past punishment. The only reason she wasn't used as a torture victim for the Carrow's and Slytherin's enjoyment was because McGonagall was taking pity on her. Frankly, she'd had enough of the pitiful looks she got, and did everything she could to avoid them. That meant slinking back into the shadows, as she did as a child… besides, no one noticed.

"Granger, I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright," Hermione muttered through gritted teeth, "I wasn't doing my job, it's only right it was given to someone else."

Professor McGonagall just looked at her. Hermione had lost everything, the poor girl, and instead of becoming a crying wreck like any normal human being would have done, she became hard as a rock. The reaction scared her professor – who had been there for her through thick and thin – but she'd changed too much, and had pushed any form of helping hand away.

"Besides," her bored voice seeped through, interrupting her thoughts, "I was going to hand in my resignation and education termination papers to you next week. May as well do it now and get it over and done with."

Taken aback, Minerva couldn't say a thing. This studious girl, the brightest witch of her age, was giving up? So easily?

"Wu…why, Hermione? I understand that…"

"No, I don't think you do, Professor. I lost them, the 3 things that were constant in my life, and I have had to sit by for three months knowing what happened and not being allowed to do a thing. I lost the people who I thought I could count on… have you lost that, Professor? Correct me if I'm wrong." Anger was taking a hold of Hermione – one of the last of her emotions – and she knew she wouldn't be able to keep control of it for much longer. Her professor knew that too, and simply handed her the papers to sign.

"You're still a member of the order, Hermione. We'll get justice for them, I promise, but for us to do that, you'll have to go back to HQ."

"Oh, I know," she said with a blank stare, "I just don't see why I should be expected to live with that slag and be reminded of everything every single day. So I'll be living in my parent's home, and I am only to be contacted when needed. I have all the books I need to help Harry, and I'll owl all progress in code to both him and HQ. Anything else?"

Minerva struggled to find her voice – the anger that was slowly seeping through was unnerving her. "That's fine. We do have one mission for you. I don't know how you'll complete it though…"

She couldn't help but punch the table in front of her. "I can do everything. Why you people think otherwise, I don't know. Is it because I'm not of the same blood as you all? You say you don't care, but words mean nothing to people nowadays." Leaning back in to her chair, she stared at her professor, trying to read her. She knew things were starting to get to her – they had always been close – but now wasn't the time to care about sentimentality. She had to get away from them all.

"Of course not! The mission requires you to get close to a certain individual within the school, and I'm not sure how you'll do that outside of the grounds."

"Well, instead of assuming I can't do something, or might find it difficult, might I suggest that you speak to me beforehand?"

"Hermione, you know how hard that's been recently. Everything I do is monitored, I only have time now because there's a staff meeting that I wasn't included in."

"I don't really care, Professor. Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it. That's all you keep me here for, after all."

"We need you to get close to the Malfoy family. Draco in particular."

The chair fell over as she rose with such anger. She signed the piece of paper, looming over her now former professor, and stormed towards the door, turning back just before she reached it.

"Fuck you."

A/N: hello :) this is my first post here. I've had this idea in my head for years, but I've only recently found the time to write it down. Constructive feedback is greatly appreciated, and although it may seem bitty, everything will be explained in the next chapter or two.