Death was an interesting creature.
An interesting creature who became an old friend.
She could distinguish not his looks.
Because sometimes it was like looking in a mirror.
Death becomes her.
Death becomes him.

Hermione sat devastated as they listened to Neville's speech. He was providing little of what was left of the order details on what lead up to and during the attack. It was clear he was distraught, his eyes sunken in, his figure slim, though still buff. After the death of Nagini, he finally gained the confidence he needed to lead the army. But that confidence did not hide his grief or how scared he currently was. Although, the way he worked through his grief would make him appear confident.

The man would be found working out through the night, letting out his frustrations on the muggle gym equipment he found. And when he was not working out he was acquiring more tattoos to his collection, the man now had two full sleeves and a growing chest and back piece. Each new edition held value to something in his life be it a person or an organization.

". . . when Ronald Weasley led us into our secret operation we were originally thought to be ambushed from both sides. Chaos was happening all around us and we were told to take cover and defend ourselves to the best of our ability. Ronald and I happened to group ourselves naturally together, fighting back to back as it soon became evident that the Order and the death eaters were not the only groups present. We realized that the two groups were already in mid-battle as we arrived, we wrongly assumed that this new group was on our side. Ronald gave the order to only attack He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's army, so we did. Yet this did us no good, I watched as our own were being targeted by not only death eaters but also this unidentified group. We were doomed the moment we arrived, we stupidly fought a losing battle and I gave word for retreat. We are here. . . because of our poor leadership. My poor leadership."

Neville stood there, his knuckles turning white as he gripped them into a tighter fist. He couldn't meet their eyes, he couldn't meet the eyes of so many who have just lost their family, their moms, dads, their children. Hermione looked around the crowd and noticed hard tear-stained faces. Their jaws were set, their brows fixed with anger, there was no doubt that this event just crushed the orders last hope.

Neville's speech left a hole in her and many others. What even was the point in fighting anymore when everyone was dead?

"Neville . . ." She heard a whisper. ". . . It's ok . . . your fault . . . hard on yourself."

She was on her way to comfort the man who grew the most out of all of them and now was carrying the most. She knew with the way he was now that he would be carrying the weight of the situation entirely on himself, blaming carelessness that was not even his fault. She was half worried that she would find him with over a dozen new tattoos to commemorate the dead, the dead that he felt he led to their graves. What she did not expect to see was there to be someone with him.

She stepped towards the door and peered into the crack, it was left just a tad open, perhaps unknowingly to those inside the room. She found Neville sitting on the floor against his bed, distraught, blood-red marks becoming more and more visible on his skin. Marks that were beginning to bleed as he stared at them, he didn't bother mending himself with magic or cleaning the droplets that fell to the floor. He sat between someone's legs who sat on the bed, she watched as he slowly let himself breakdown and grab ahold of the individual's leg as he began sobbing. The girl who she heard comforting him finally came into sight as she bent down to kiss his forehead and brush away his tears, the girl whispered sweet nothings into his ear that appeared to calm him down. Her face finally came into sight as she lifted her head back up into the light.

A gasp escaped from Hermione's lips as she finally saw who it was. Her cheeks turned almost as red like the girl's hair.

She quickly retreated as the pair caught sight of her, clearly equally startled.

"I don't know what to do." Madam Pomfrey claimed in a hushed tone. "I've never seen a curse quite like this."

Hermione, Severus, and Madam Pomfrey all stood at the foot of Ron's cot. The boy ended up being relocated into a more private room after Neville's speech, the room he was in was no longer safe. The individuals who took shelter with the order, many of whom had family members apart of the order, were in outrage. They wanted to blame someone and who easier to blame one of the men who led them into the massacre.

"From my estimations, I would state that the boy has maybe a couple of days before his entire body dissipates." Severus drawled. It doesn't show on his face, but she could tell that the way he creased his brow was not out of boredom or irritation, he was worried and felt hopeless.

"Have you already looked into eliminating the bone and then regrowing it? Perhaps if the curse has nothing to feed off of then it will put a halt to its progression." She offered to them.

"The curse is not feeding off just bone Miss Granger, it's feeding off muscle and skin. I highly doubt there is anything we can do to stop it now."

Hermione stood there, her mind racing as her friend lay in the bed dying. They didn't want to amputate his legs, they weren't even sure if it would actually stop the curse or if it would just begin in a new area. Yet, it was beginning to look as though that was their only option.

"Do it." Hermione finally decided. "Cut them off."

"As eager as you are Hermione, I cannot just cut off his legs. You are not the one who decides his medical procedures." Promfery claimed to her.

"This is war Madam Pomfrey, forgive me but I had no clue we were still following the rules of our previous society."

Madam Pomfrey shot her a look of disapproval, "With how things are going thus far I do not wish to create more chaos by simply cutting off one of the most influential leaders of the resistance legs on a mere whim that it might work. We will consult with his family and go from there."

Hermione felt sick to her stomach as she thought of seeing the Weasley family again. They haven't spoken in well over a year, especially after what happened with her parents. When she began insisting on the use of curses they began to cut off more and more ties with her, the only person who remained to talk to her was Ginny and now not even that was happening. There were so many unspoken secrets between them, she began to wonder if there was even a point in telling the truth to the ones closest to you if you were just going to end up deceiving them in the end.

The group walked down the hall to where the Weasleys were impatiently waiting. Hermione was included in the medical advisory staff much to the thanks of Severus. Through her 'apprenticeship' with him, she learned many healing potions and techniques, then with the help of Madam Pomfrey she was able to become more inept with the body and diagnosis spells. With her new knowledge, coupled with the counterspells she created for several new curses, she was deemed one of the heads medically but was not ready to be in action. She was something of a scientist in muggle terms, not necessarily in the action but working to combat it.

"How is he?" Molly Weasley jumped up before they had even entered the room.

She was thinner than what Hermione remembered, her hair cut into a nice pixie cut, somewhat due to the extreme amounts of grief she has causing it to fall out. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was pale, looking over her she would have never recognized her if it weren't for the time to time pass by.

Madam Pomfrey uttered the devastating words and Molly shrieked in horror once again. This war was destroying her every being. Her husband died soon after the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, the man died of grief over so many friends and even his children dying in front of him. After his funeral Molly Weasley fell ill, rapidly losing her hair and weight, becoming a skeleton of herself.

"So what? We cut off his legs and even then he might not live?" Ginny cut in, an irritated edge to her voice.

Hermione couldn't help but wince as they locked eyes and the redhead quickly turned away. After the events of this morning, even Hermione was having a hard time keeping her head up in front of her. She thought Ginny and Harry were still going strong, thought that they were happy. She still seen them around one another, mainly Ginny comforting him. But she never would have guessed Ginny and Neville spending time together behind closed doors.

"Right now Miss Weasley that is our only choice. We either cut the limbs and hope for the best, there is a fifty-fifty chance of it succeeding or failing." Severus explained to her.

"Well, then bloody do it!" George exacerbated. "I'm not losing someone else, if he can't walk then he can't walk. At least he would still be here!"

"Would he be happy with that?" Harry chimed in behind them all, surprising them as it was rare for him to appear. "I know Ron, I know that he would rather die than not be able to fight."

"No one is claiming he won't Harry, it is insane you would assume such a thing. You should know as well as I do in the advances in muggle technology in regards to prosthetics." Hermione accused him, she couldn't believe he was honestly implying that they should just let him die. "With our magical abilities, it is astonishing to know that nothing has been done to take this muggle knowledge and better build upon it."

". . . Yes. . . Perhaps you are right Hermione," Molly claimed, suddenly appearing next to her and gripping her hand as if it was to bring her comfort. "Do it."

"And you are positive this is what you want for your son?" Madame Pomfrey questioned.

Hermione's thoughts wandered to the unconscious boy who laid dying slowly in bed whose life was about to drastically change. She already knew that he would be devastated, angry, depressed, but at least the boy would be alive.

"Do it."

And for the first time in a long time, the determined and fiery-headed Molly Weasley was the mom she knew before the war.

The operation went successful from what Hermione had heard, he was finally in a stable condition but only time would tell if it was true or not.

Her head was turning in exhaustion, no one slept since the massive influx of injured and dead. They didn't even have all their dead and they never would, the Order was about to face a massive backlash over the events that transpired over the past few days.

A knock came at her door.

"Hermione."

It was Ginny.

Hermione opened the door slowly, peeking out at the redhead who stared back at her in determination. She greeted her into her room and shut the door, this would no doubt be about what she witnessed this morning.

"I just wanted to talk about what you saw this morning-"

"Are you still with Harry?" Hermione cut her off, she didn't want to play semantics, she just wanted to get straight to the point.

Ginny glared back at her, clearly not wanting to answer the question. But that gave Hermione the answer she needed.

"How long?"

"You don't understand—"

"How long?" Hermione demanded. Harry and she might not have talked any longer, but that didn't change the fact that he was still someone she cared for, still someone she regarded as a brother.

"A year."

Hermione stared at her in disbelief, a year ago Ginny seemed to have been in a better place. She even gushed over the fact that Harry could propose to her despite everything, that he was doing better.

"Does he know?" Was her next question.

"Does who know?"

"Stop playing stupid Ginny, stop with the bullshit. Does Harry know? Or are you just stringing him along?" Hermione sneered in disgust.

"I wasn't planning on this, I didn't plan this! I never wanted to hurt him, I don't want to hurt him. I love him." The witch stumbled over her words, desperately trying to explain herself.

"So what? One chosen one wasn't enough? You needed to go onto the one who could be the actual chosen one when the other seemed defective?" Hermione further accused her, she felt the sting of her own words.

Ginny faltered, "You know that's not true!" She claimed. "You know I love him, that I truly love him! That I want to be with him! It's just. . . It's just that he has been so closed off. He barely touched me now, we barely have a moment where we talk, confide in one another."

"Get out."

"What?" Ginny stared at her, her eyes dewy with fresh tears. "Please Hermione, please—"

"Get out!" Hermione yelled losing her temper. If anyone was supposed to be there for Harry it was supposed to be Ginny. But even she wasn't there, even she wasn't bothering to try and help him.

"Just please don't tell him," Ginny murmured as she dashed past Hermione.

Things weren't supposed to be this way. Nothing was supposed to be this way.