She was lying on the cool, dark floorboards. She felt nothing anymore and she was drifting into a pleasant, soothing darkness that she was finding more and more irresistible. Deep in the back of her mind Hermione knew that allowing herself to be taken by the darkness would be giving up, but the rest of her brain was too numb to listen to the rational side of her brain anymore. Hermione began to welcome the darkness, it felt so comforting, so homely, just a few more seconds and she would be safe- 'I'm not finished with you yet Mudblood' whispered a harsh voice right in Hermione's ear. Hermione groaned as the comforting darkness melted away allowing the terrible pain to return to every nerve in her body. 'That's it Mudblood, you didn't think I'd let you go that easily did you?!' Bellatrix spat. 'CRUCIO' the deranged witch screamed. The pain attacked Hermione unrelentingly; it felt like her bones were being scraped with knives and that her skin, was surely on fire. Her eyes rolled crazily and she didn't even realise that she was screaming, until Bellatrix crouched over her so that she had no choice but to look into her manic face, and pressed a cold knife blade to Hermione's lips, silencing her screams. 'This will be the last thing you ever see Mudblood' growled Bellatrix gesturing to her own face. 'After you're dead, just so you know, I'm going to do the same to your blood traitor boyfriend' Bellatrix whispered. Hermione shut her eyes and began to struggle and sob even harder- 'This bitch can kill me but she is never going to lay a finger on Ron' thought Hermione with renewed energy as she struggled underneath the weight of the witch sitting on top of her. Suddenly the weight disappeared and Hermione open her eyes to see Bellatrix kneeling beside her. Her eyes glinted manically as she raised her knife above her head. Hermione then let out a raw, high pitched scream of absolute terror as she watched the knife flash through the air as it headed straight for her heart-'
Hermione woke suddenly from her nightmare gasping. She was shaking, covered in sweat and as her throat was raw, she concluded that she had been screaming. 'For Merlin's sake Granger you need to get a grip on yourself!' Hermione whispered to herself while running her hands through her hair. The bedroom window allowed the pale light of dawn to shine through and sure enough as Hermione turned to her Muggle alarm clock she groaned when she read 04:47am. She then stopped stock still when she realised that at exactly this time a month ago, she believed that her best friend Harry Potter, was dead. A whole month since the world had been saved, a whole month since people she loved had stopped existing. After staring into space for a few moments Hermione gathered herself and shakily got out of bed and walked across the cool floorboards to look in the long mirror that was positioned next to several moving Chinese Fireball dragon posters. Hermione had stayed at the Burrow since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts and despite at first wanting to stay with Harry and Ron all the time, she soon came to realise that she needed her own space, at least for a while. And so she had ended up in Charlie's vacant room while he was busy helping rebuild the fractured relationships between the Romanian Ministry for Magic and British Ministry.
Every morning for a month Hermione had woken up early and just stared at herself in the mirror, taking in every detail and seeing how much she had grown up since she was the eager, extremely bushy haired eleven year old. Her year on the run had taken a huge toll on her; she was now far thinner than she had ever been with her cheeks hollowed and her ribs and collarbones still sticking out despite having Mrs Weasley's food. Her hair was still long and ragged having not being cut and cared for for so long and her body was still covered in injuries, both from the Battle and from previous events. Hermione's worst injuries were still undoubtedly the ones that Bellatrix Lestrange had unmercifully inflicted upon her, and these were the ones that she always found herself staring at the longest during her morning ritual.
All of her bones still dully ached from the Cruciatus Curses she had endured and there was no escaping the pain that movement caused her because of the Unforgivable Curses and the beating Bellatrix had given her. Lifting her head, Hermione stared repulsed at the long, thin scar on her throat that Bellatrix had left with her knife and traced it with her fingers in the dim light, feeling the tenderness of the slightly raised line of skin. Although it was no longer blood red and scabbed, it had still formed a dark purple line across Hermione's throat that stood out magnificently against her pale skin. Hermione suppressed a sob and looked away from the mirror upon realising that it would most likely never fade completely (at least naturally) and her throat constricted as she briefly remembered the feeling of the ice cold blade being pressed against her. No matter how much Hermione didn't want to, her head turned automatically back to the mirror and her eyes were drawn to the horrible mess on her left arm. Tears freely escaped her eyes as she gazed, horrified at the word 'Mudblood' that was carved deep into her forearm. Despite Mrs Weasley's best efforts and the Healer's from St. Mungo's expertise, the letters had remained as fresh on her arm as the day they were created, although they rarely bled now. The blood red letters covered her entire forearm, from the crook of her elbow to her wrist, and the mutilation still caused deep aches and sharp shooting pains into her hand and all the way up her left side. 'She's still torturing me even though she's dead' Hermione thought to herself as she brushed away her tears with her right hand. She knew that both Harry and Ron were also struggling after the war, but they didn't have to see a physical reminder of the horrors they went through every day and they didn't have that physical reminder engraved onto them.
Grabbing one of Ron's hoodies she had borrowed off of the floor she shrugged it on. Feeling a bit better now that she couldn't see her injury, Hermione put on some too big jeans that she had worn before they had gone hunting for Horcruxes and crept down the haphazard staircase, careful not to make the stairs creak. She stopped outside Ron's bedroom door and pressed her ear to it gently. Hermione smiled to herself when she heard Ron's rumbling snoring, glad that he was sleeping peacefully and then continued down the stairs. More of the dawn light reached into the kitchen casting all the objects into strange shadows while Hermione crossed the floor to the sink. She pressed her head against the cold edge of the china sink and summoned a glass from a cupboard. She filled the glass with cool water and sat down at the long kitchen table, staring out of the window into the wild garden where the chickens were pecking at the ground.
Hermione's eyes scanned the kitchen as she slowly sipped the water, soothing her throat, when they came to rest on the famous Weasley clock. She hadn't been able to look at it since she got back to the Burrow and now see wished she never had. Both Fred and George's clock hands were pointing to the word 'Lost'. Her eyes filled with tears and fell once again down her face, hitting the wooden table leaving round marks. Fred was lost to death and George was lost without Fred. They all missed Fred; it was unbearable sitting at the table for dinner and having him not being there. It tore at everyone's hearts when they saw that Mrs Weasley still set a place for Fred even though he would never eat with them again. Hermione sobbed silently, her head pressed against the table, her right hand clutching her left arm which had begun to shoot sharp pains again and her teeth gritted to prevent her from screaming at the injustice of everything that had happened. She was concentrating so hard at not making any noise that she didn't notice that Mrs Weasley had entered the kitchen behind her.
Over the years Mrs Weasley had come to think of Hermione as another daughter and loved her as much as any of her other children. She remembered the first time she had met Hermione after Ron had finished his first year at Hogwarts, when he, Harry and Hermione (Ron had told her about Hermione in his letters home) got of the Hogwarts Express together. The Hermione Mrs Weasley remembered from that day seemed a world away from the quietly sobbing woman who was sitting with her head down on the kitchen table, clutching her arm as if it would fall off; but then, Mrs Weasley supposed, it really was a world away.
She walked over to Hermione and placed her hand motherly on her shaking shoulder which caused Hermione to jump in surprise. Hermione looked up, shocked for she had not heard anyone in come down the stairs, straight into the warm, caring, tired eyes of Mrs Weasley. Hermione let out an agonising sob when she looked into the worn face of the woman who was her 'magical mother', and she allowed herself to be pulled into Mrs Weasley's arms while she continued to cry, soaking Mrs Weasley's dressing gown with her tears. Neither woman said anything for twenty minutes until Hermione's sobs started to slow down, 'I'm sorry Mrs Weasley I just-'
'I think it's about time you started to call me Molly don't you think dear?' said Mrs Weasley gently while rubbing soothing circles into Hermione's back. Hermione laughed slightly before suddenly squeezing her eyes shut and gasping in pain as the wound on her arm rapidly began to burn. 'Hermione dear, would you mind if I looked at…at it please?' said Mrs Weasley frowning with concern. She knew that Hermione had been tortured from what she had forced Ron and Harry to tell her, but she hadn't realised how close to death Hermione had come until she had seen the wounds on Hermione's throat and her arm a few days after the Battle, and until Hermione had told her what she could about her ordeal. It sounded to Mrs Weasley that Hermione was tortured as severely as Frank and Alice Longbottom and if Dobby hadn't freed Harry and Ron, well, Mrs Weasley couldn't bear to think about what would have happened to her. Hermione looked apprehensively at Mrs Weasley and then the sleeve of Ron's hoodie that currently hid the devastation. Slowly she lifted the sleeve up her arm, lifting it above the wound so as not to cause more pain. Hermione looked away when she saw that once again, it was oozing blood and her face burned with embarrassment when she heard Mrs Weasley gasp in shock.
'Shouldn't it have healed at least a bit by now Molly?' asked Hermione as Mrs Weasley's gentle hands held her arm while a bandage wrapped itself around the wound.
'I honestly don't know dear, the blade was obviously cursed with Dark Magic which prevents the wounds it creates from healing, but I don't know if we can reverse the curse within the wounds' said Mrs Weasley apologetically.
'Does it hurt all the time?' she asked tentatively. 'Yes' said Hermione nodding as fresh tears escaped. 'There is always a deep ache, that's when it hurts the least, but then it increases until it feels like it's burning and then the cycle starts again. I can deal with the physical pain Molly, it's just I have to see every day and it always reminds me of that day and of…of her and what she did and I can't escape it, even when I'm asleep' whispered Hermione shaking.
Mrs Weasley pulled down the hoodie sleeve and kissed Hermione gently on the top of the head, 'You're all safe now dear, and thanks to you, Harry and Ron, we always will be. I can't thank you all enough for that' she said with the upmost sincerity. 'But for the moment, I think it's time I started to cook some breakfast don't you think? It's 7:00 and some very hungry boys will be coming down soon!' Hermione laughed but then faltered when she saw Mrs Weasley frown- not all of her boys would be coming down the stairs- Mrs Weasley turned away hurriedly conjuring some bacon out of thin air and throwing it into the frying pan. Hermione pretended not to notice Mrs Weasley's sudden overwhelming sadness as it was clear she didn't want Hermione to see her distress, so she said 'I'm just going to go for a walk in the garden Mrs Weasley.'
'Right you are my dear' Mrs Weasley managed to choke out. It was as Hermione was putting on her shoes that she suddenly remembered that today was Fred's funeral.