A/N: Welcome! So, as I didn't really have a plan for this story when I posted the first chapter, it took some time to find a semblance of direction for it. I didn't necessarily intend to make a story out of this, but now I have something to aim for in terms of an ending, so let's see where this takes us. Updates will probably not be frequent or with any regularity, but I will update when I have something. Stay safe if Hurricane Dorian is headed your way.

Enjoy!

When Hermione woke, Bellatrix was indeed gone, and the sun was working its way below the horizon. The sky was a mix of oranges and purples, blending together and sending the occasional shaft of light through Hermione's moth-eaten curtain. She stared at the ceiling, stained with water damage and other mysterious things she'd rather not think about. It was slowly growing darker and she stayed in bed, letting her eyes adjust to the fading light. She would have to meet Stockman again tonight to confirm the job was complete. Everything she was asked to do was easy, too easy. She wanted something harder.

Hermione threw off the blanket, rolling out her depressingly small bed. The entire place was depressingly small, but she found it easier to take care of. She hardly had to do anything more than the occasional flick of her hand. It was what she wanted, even though she could afford a nice place if she desired. Starting her shower, Hermione made sure to let the water run until it was clear before she adjusted the temperature. She brushed her teeth while she waited, examining her reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror. Her face had hollowed out, her cheekbones standing out starkly. Her eyes had a haunted dullness about them and she had dark, heavy bags under her eyes. Her once bushy brown hair now hung limply down to the small of her back. Hermione spat, rinsing out her mouth and stepping into the now steaming shower. She bathed quickly, knowing her thoughts were prone to wandering if she took too long.

Drying herself with a threadbare towel, Hermione stepped out onto the bathroom floor, the tile cold on her feet. She flexed her toes, discarding the towel once she was mostly dry and walking to her tiny closet. She had taken to wearing all black, feeling like it helped her blend into the night. She pulled on her clothes, messily braiding her hair before pulling on her cloak. Keys weren't necessary for her, so she didn't bother grabbing them as she walked out of her apartment. The door closed firmly behind her, with a little force. It was a nice night, on the cooler side but still bearable without a heavy coat. Hermione would enjoy the weather, a welcome refuge from the heat. It was part of the reason she had become nocturnal. Her criminal ways were a...side effect of that. She enjoyed it, the darker side of the world. It was...refreshing.

Hermione pushed open the door to the dive bar to find her usual table occupied. Frowning, Hermione approached the three figures who had taken refuge at her table. They looked up, and one stood, offering her a chair. She sat, scrutinizing them. They were all men, too clean and neat to be criminals, even gangsters. They looked almost... military. They observed her too, though not as carefully as she was them. Her hooded cloak obscured most of her features and she never lowered it until the phrase was muttered. They weren't nervous like so many of her other clients were, so they couldn't have been in any trouble, and if they were, they weren't worried about it.

"Are you the Mudblood?" one of them asked, a dirty blond man, barely in his twenties if she had to guess. Their clear leader.

"You're the ones sitting at my table, so clearly you already know the answer to that," Hermione stated bluntly, eyeing the door out of the corner of her eye. She had taken on the name once someone had seen her arm and asked what it meant. It didn't bother her like it would have once upon a time.

"We need you to acquire something for us. Or rather, someone," the blond continued, "We're trying to find our sister. She disappeared last week and we haven't heard anything. The police haven't been any help. We know this isn't your typical...work, but surely someone who gets rid of things knows how to find them."

Hermione considered it, she had just been growing bored and wishing for something else. This sounded like it would be harder than just erasing someone from existence. She chewed her lip, sitting in silence while the three men watched her expectantly.

"A picture and something sentimental to her," Hermione finally said, eyes flicking between the three men. They released a collective sigh, nodding and thanking her.

One of them-the middle, Hermione guessed- pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the pictures until he found the one he was looking for. He reached across the table and handed her the small photo, worn at the edges but still in good shape. Hermione gazed at the picture in dumbstruck silence. It looked like-it couldn't be. It wasn't possible. It had to be just an uncanny resemblance and nothing more. Hermione shook herself out of her stupor, nodding and waiting. The youngest reached around in his pockets, patting them before finding the one containing what he was looking for and fishing it out of his pocket. A shiny silver necklace hung from his fingertips, the pendant an emerald snake with silver eyes. Hermione held out her hand, ignoring the strange feeling in her chest as the warm object landed in her palm. It had a strange warmth to it and as she closed her hand around it, the silver gems flashed, making it appear to blink.

"I'll find you when it's done," she said, not bothering with a time. She had no idea how long it would take to track down their sister. She only had a vague idea of how to start, but she was confident it would work out. The three brothers left, leaving Hermione at the table alone. She let the necklace dangle from her fingertips, watching as the pendant spun slowly. A small smile graced her face as she tucked it into her pocket. Her face hurt from the motion, having not smiled in so long. It wasn't long before the guy from last night entered the bar, still nervous as he approached. As he sat, the chair scraped noisily against the floor, drawing a few annoyed looks and a grimace from Hermione. She didn't let it show, instead, she let the shadows of her hood mask her expression.

"I-is it done?" He stammered, eyes flicking around the bar. Hermione simply nodded, watching as he visibly relaxed. He slid an envelope across the table, the rest of her payment. She tucked it into one of her pockets, waiting for the man to leave. He sat there for a few moments, not understanding that he could leave. Realization dawned on his face and he left clumsily.

Hermione leaned back in her chair, propping her feet on the table and signaling to the owner to bring over a drink. She always had a celebratory drink after her success. The owner always brought her his specialty of the week and she always drank it, no matter how horrible it was. It was weird that he did a specialty drink, considering his bar's reputation, but she had a feeling it was more for her than anyone else. The owner enjoyed making her new, interesting drinks rather than continuing to serve the same mug of beer over and over. She found it...endearing. He never charged her either, but that was part of their arrangement. She was on retainer for him and whatever he needed, and he provided her with a free drink on a somewhat regular basis. Hermione lowered her hood as he approached, two drinks in hand. Everyone here was a regular patron, but no one here would look twice at her, anyway. A smile crossed her face as her drink was set in front of her and the owner-a friend, in a way-sat across from her.

"How's business?" She asked, picking up her drink and letting the aroma hit her before taking a sip and holding it in her mouth as she tasted it.

"Better since you crawled out of hell, M," he teased, taking a sip of his own drink.

After she swallowed her drink, she let out a chuckle, "You always were a charmer, Ty. Make good drinks, too. I just might have to keep you."

"Well, you already know I have no problem with that," he retorted with a wink.

Hermione hummed, taking her feet off the table and letting the front of her chair drop rapidly to the ground, "I guess I'll have to make sure the portal opens here so I can drag you with me."

"I'm almost positive I'll be going there regardless."

"Maybe," Hermione smirked, taking another sip.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see. So, what was up with those three? They certainly stood out. Waited for you almost since we opened," Ty asked.

"They want me to find someone. Not my usual line of work, but I think it'll be a welcome challenge."

"Well, I'll be sure to have an extra special drink when you finish that."

Hermione smiled, downing the rest of her drink. You feeling up to a little competition?" She challenged.

"Not tonight, I don't have anyone working the bar. But, if you stick around, maybe after we close."

"Next time, then. I should get started on seeing what I can find about doing the opposite of my usual job. I'll be around, Ty." Hermione stood, giving Ty a kiss on the cheek before leaving. She pulled her hood up as she stepped outside, walking back toward her apartment. The warmth in her stomach spread through her, causing her cheeks to flush despite the chill air. Slowly, she made her way back to her apartment, not sure what, if anything, would be waiting for her. Sometimes, Bellatrix was there. Other times, she wasn't. Hermione didn't always know, only sometimes had the feeling. Usually, when she drank she couldn't tell. She wasn't in a rush, regardless of whether or not she hallucinated Bellatrix bloody Lestrange, she was alone. She would always be alone. She told herself she didn't care, but sometimes, all she wanted was for someone to see her, who she used to be.

Hermione shook her head sharply, regretting the force she had used when her vision crept sideways. She stopped, inhaling slowly and watching her breath condense as she exhaled. Who she used to be didn't matter anymore. This is who she was. Ty was probably the closest to her, but she held even him at arm's length. They had spent nights together, drinking, talking, even fucking on occasion. There wasn't any love between them, not really, but they had a weird kind of chemistry that worked for them. Ty was good at making her forget she existed, and she knew she did the same for him. On the occasions where they drank and talked, Hermione usually found herself in someone else's bed. Men, women, whoever she decided might be good enough to make her forget. Tonight, though, she had other plans. And those plans involved her pathetic apartment and as much sleep as she could. She knew herself, knew she would be up for countless hours obsessing over the necklace and photo. Still, she could at least try.

Hermione entered her apartment, almost slamming the door behind her. She hadn't meant to, but sometimes the hinges were loose and didn't require as much force. She stopped dead when she saw the familiar silhouette of the woman she was obsessed with.

"Two nights in a row? It must be a special occasion," Hermione commented icily.

"You're the one obsessed with me. I'm surprised you aren't out fucking someone to forget me. We both know you can't," Bellatrix responded, just as much ice lacing her tone.

"Sometimes I wish you were real so I could-"

"Could what? What would you do to me if I were here? Curse me? Kill me? We both know it doesn't work like that. You have to mean it, and I've made it so you could never mean it toward me."

"Doesn't mean I couldn't try," Hermione muttered. She let her cloak drop to the floor, stripping her other clothes off at random.

Her hallucination of Bellatrix eyed her up and down. "You could, but we both know you wouldn't."

"Buzz off."

"Someone wants to fight tonight. Trouble in that fucked up little head of yours? At least you're still the brightest witch of your age, not that you'd believe that."

"Obviously there's trouble in my head if you're here. Maybe I should just give myself a lobotomy. Then I wouldn't have to deal with this shit," Hermione growled.

"That would be a disservice to the world. There's no sense in you wasting away, barely more than a vegetable," Bellatrix was almost shouting, not that it would cause any problem, considering she wasn't real.

"What do you care so much?! You did this to me!" Hot tears leaked around the edges of Hermione's eyes, stinging as they slowly made trails down her cheeks.

"No. You did this to yourself," Bellatrix whispered, "She tortured you, but you made yourself into this...shell of yourself. You left everyone, everything. You decided to make yourself into what you are now.

"I can't believe I'm having this conversation with myself right now." Hermione sank to the floor, lying on her back and staring up at the ceiling. "I'm supposed to find someone."

"Well, you better start looking."

With that, she was alone again. The tears came harder now, her body shaking. The cold of the tile seeped into her through her bare skin, causing shivers. Mustering all her will, Hermione rose, crawling into what she called a bed and pulling the blankets around her. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. It was why she had taken to finding company to keep her occupied. Tonight, her blanket would be her warmth, and her thoughts would be her occupation. The benefit of her breakdown: crying always made her fall asleep after.