"Granger, a word?" Moody caught her as she passed by his office. Well, as much as an office a small bedroom could be. Hermione nodded, and sat down on one of the wooden chairs stationed in front of the desk, her back pressed against a single bed.

"Is everything okay?" Hermione asked him as he shuffled around stacks of papers, his eye seeming to dart in all directions.

"Yes, things are fine. I wanted to talk to you about the future, specifically, your future."

"My future?" she asked, confused.

"Potter's brought up concerns, bout how yer acting, how you've been." he said, pulling a sheet of paper in front of him, " Lookin' here, you've been in active duty for nine straight years without an extended time of leave in three."

She crossed her arms, looking at him dead on. "Ginerva or Harry?"

"Harry. But that's besides the point."

"No, Moody, that is the point. You know him, he's always concerned about something."

Though he knew she was capable, she felt that Harry had always coddled herself and Ron. He had brought them on missions with him away from battle, and though it came with its own set of dangers, he would be there to watch over them. In the past, he had begged her to take time off, to stop taking unnecessary risks. But she didn't listen, she couldn't. Their progress would be halted without her.

"He's not the only one. I've seen it too, Granger. Don't get coy with me. You've been angry, not eatin' or sleepin' much, and hittin' the damn bottle harder than I do." He paused, finally focusing fully on her. "And, you look like shit."

Hermione scoffed and threw her hands up, "Sorry, am I doing a poor job or something?"

"No, and that's why we're concerned. Cause when this war ends, what are you going to do?"

Up until a few years ago, she had a clear idea of where she wanted to end up after they successfully defeated Voldemort. She was going to have a life with Ron, they were going to have kids, she was going to be a lawyer and perhaps one day work in the Ministry. They would live near Harry and Ginny and their children would play together. She would visit Molly and Arthur at the Burrow and bring them fresh fruits from the garden that she wanted to start. And she wanted to do it by hand, no magic involved, because that's how she and her mum used to do it.

But those thoughts started to fade long ago, well before the issues started in their relationship. They faded when she saw the cruelty and carnage of the war and what it could take from people.

"I'm going to go to law school, travel the world. I don't know, there will be plenty of things for me to do."

"Granger, I can see right through you. Not because of anything other than me knowin' ya for so long. You need a break. After you locate the Bell girl, you are to take mandatory leave. Three months, no less."

"Three fucking months? You're joking. Shaklebolt will never…"

He cut her off, his voice boomed in the small room. "He's signed off on the paperwork too."

"What am I supposed to do for three months?"

Sitting back in his chair, he pulled out a sheet of paper and used a quill to scratch some notes into the parchment. "Consider it a trail run, for when the war is over."

"So, I just sit idly by while everyone else puts their life on the line? You need me. The Order needs me."

"I can feel it, we're nearly there, and once we find those horcruxes, you will be back. The Order does need you, but the Order needs you in top form if we are going to end this war soon."

"I'm giving it all I have already, is it not enough?"

Moody ignored her, flicking his wand, the papers started to gather into a stack and file themselves into a drawer. "Make preparations for your departure. Three months plan. Granger, you're dismissed."

Her heart broke in her chest before the rage overcame her. The way she moved through the 12 Grimmauld Place was like a storm, not caring who she ran into or what she came across, nothing could stop her. Hermione went directly to Harry and Ginny's room and banged on the door. When Harry opened it, he had a sleepy look on his face.

"Hermione?"

She tapped her foot impatiently. "We need to talk."

Slowly, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it. The lankiness of his figure was enveloped in a large t-shirt, making him look even thinner than he was. His narrow shoulders were drawn forward, standing defensively in front of her. "Before you…"

"How could you? After everything, you just push me to the side again and again, Harry."

His hand gently reached for her shoulder. "You need a break, you're wearing down. You nearly died the other night. Malfoy could have killed you."

"Is that so different from any other time?" Hermione pulled away from his touch. All she could feel was heat radiating off her skin, the anger manifesting physically.

"Can't you understand? I'm doing this for you, for us. For everyone in the Order. It's not an easy decision, but it's one we have to make." He was more aggressive now, which made Hermione take a step back. Usually, he was level-headed, smiling no matter what.

But now, his frustration was palpable. A rare site for her to see, and it fueled her own rage.

"No, I understand it perfectly clearly. You don't need me anymore. Harry's got it all, the perfect family, his best friend, an army that follows his every command. And soon, he'll have the victory of war." She sighed, holding her head in her hand. "And I'm just Hermione. The witch with nothing."

Harry softened his stance, pulling her into his arms. She tried to dodge him, but once his slender arms wrapped around her, she caved. The dingy, large shirt smelt so familiar, like summer breaks at the Burrow and the pages of an old book.

"Hermione, you have us."

She grit her teeth, and pushed him away from her. It felt like tearing away a piece of herself as his arms unraveled from her.

"I don't know if that's true. For the next three months and after the war, I don't think I'll have anyone."

—

Hermione's eyes raked the pages of names, trying to find any trace of Katie Bell, any sliver of hope that she had was quickly fading as she looked over the logs. They were a detailed account of Order members in custody of the Ministry, which was tight under the control of Voldemort.

Harold Trip, deceased, Azkaban Prison

Charlotte McLeary, deceased, Ministry of Magic Holding

Gloria Willow, alive, transferred, St. Mungos to Hogwarts

Farrah Abbott, alive, Yaxley Estate

The Ministry had fallen early on in the war, and Voldemort had replaced nearly every position with a Death Eater from a prominent wizarding family. They purged every person who was sympathetic to the Order by killing them or throwing them in the holding cells deep within the walls in the Ministry. Most of Voldemort's operations came out of here or at Hogwarts, which had become a stronghold for his forces. The Hall of Records was one of the more difficult areas to access if you were a fugitive of Voldemort's law, but they were lucky to have collected a few strands of hair from various Ministry employees over the years.

"Thirty minutes till the Polyjuice wears off," Angelina said as she checked her watch. "Pick it up, girls."

"Aye-aye, Captain," Ginny snickered as she thumbed through a record book of hospitalizations.

"Don't you forget it, Weasley. You were taking orders from me before they put Granger in charge."

"Thank Merlin this is war and not quidditch," Hermione chimed in.

"You're telling me that Viktor Krum didn't teach you a single thing about the damn sport while you were snogging and shagging?" Angelina laughed. "I thought that was the only thing he talked about."

"Not many words are exchanged during shagging, Ange. You of all people should know." Ginny nearly laughed herself out of the seat trying to get the sentence out.

If she hadn't spent over a third of her life in a war, Hermione would have mentioned a muggle study that surveyed men and found that most prefer women being vocal when intimate. It was something she skimmed when she and Ron encountered issues with intimacy after discussing family planning. But she refrained from bringing it up.

She had changed a lot since her early days at Hogwarts. She became quieter, not wanting to be labeled as the insufferable know-it-all any longer. The realization came to her abruptly, seeing how mentally taxing the war was. Having someone spew off statistics and probabilities when they just wanted a smidge of hope could be demoralizing.

She was content to just sit and laugh with them. Even though they were in a building swarming with Death Eaters and Snatchers, she didn't shush them or tell them to be more serious. She might have at the start of the war. But so much of their childhood had been stripped away, any chance they had to just act like girls she was happy for.

"My mistake, Ginerva. I just assumed the arm candy of the world's best quidditch player would have picked up a thing or two." Angelina peeked her head out of the doorframe, keeping watch. It was silent for several minutes before Angelina spoke again. "Heads up, ladies. We've got company."

Angelina and Ginny moved out of sight between two shelves. Hermione, caught up with a log of St. Mungos patients, didn't have time to retreat to the shadows. A plump man walked through the door frame, focusing on a ledger on a clipboard in front of him. Hermione had recognized him as the Keeper of Records, Albert Runcorn. He flicked his fingers, and several pieces of parchments circled around him as quills began scribbling away at them.

Runcorn looked over to Hermione and smiled sweetly. "Mafalda, it's been too long since I've seen you, dear. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"Albert, it is good to see you. Just looking over the past month's accounts. Are those the most recent batch?"

"Yes, but you know I can't release them yet. They need to be processed first," he said, inching closer to Hermione, wearing a smile that seemed a little too friendly now. She took a step back, but was stopped by a table.

"Just a once over, I'd hate to come all the way back down here and trouble you again."

"No trouble at all, dear." The pump man was closing in on her, his eyes darting around her transfigured body. "Although, I can give them to you now, if you do me a favor."

Behind Runcorn, Angelina and Ginny had quietly moved towards the parchments, looking over each page diligently.

Hermione's fingers went to the collar of his shirt, tracing the geometric pattern slowly, keeping his attention on her. "What can I do for you, Albert?"

"I think you know," he said, grabbing her waist forcefully and pulling her close. Hermione let out a yelp, being crushed between him and the table.

"Stupefy!" Ginny yelled. Rumcorn's body froze, and Hermione pushed him aside as he slumped onto the floor.

Angelina snatched one of the parchments from the air just before they started to fall and they rushed out of the room.

"Katie isn't here, she's being handed off to the fucking Carrows," Angelina said breathlessly as they made their way to their exit. "Five minutes till the Polyjuice is out."

Hermione opened the bag at her side and reached in. She pulled out two vials covered in green liquid.

"Shit. Here," she said, handing them to Angelina and Ginny.

She has suggested to Moody and Kingsley in the past to use muggle plastics instead of glass to house potions, as they would be more durable and less prone to shattering. But they argued with her and said that it wasn't necessary. Hermione rolled her eyes, feeling the bag becoming soaked with polyjuice..

"What about you?" Ginny asked as Hermione pulled a cloak over her head. "Take mine."

"No," Hermione's voice cracked. She gave a quick glance down to Ginny's stomach. "Don't argue with me on this one."

"Hermione, if you're caught here…"

She understood what would happen if she was caught. They all knew her face, it had been plastered in the magazines and tabloids. Death Eaters would know she was Potter's Golden Girl, the pride of the Order, muggle-born.

Damn Kingsley and his headlines.

Once Voldemort realized he wouldn't be able to extract any information from her mind, he would attempt to torture it out. And after, they'd execute her publically to send a message to the Order.

"I know, you don't have to tell me. I know," she said flatly, thinking through the potential escape routes out of the Ministry.

Angelina attempted to shove the vial given to her back to Hermione. "They'll be easier on me."

Easier. Easier meant that they wouldn't kill her because of her blood status.

"Be reasonable, Angie. Do you really think you can keep him out of your mind for more than a few hours? Just take it, we're getting out of here anyways."

As soon as they reached the elevator, alarms started to ring throughout the building. Hermione's heart sank in her chest, knowing the probability of her leaving with them was decreasing by the second. They drank the vials quickly, transforming before Hermione's eyes as she morphed back into her own body. She knew that time was running out, the elevators were locked and this floor was likely being searched already.

"You both have to leave now. If they see us together, they'll be suspicious. Take my bag and the ID cards. Show them the documents and they'll let you out. Get to the safe house as soon as you can apparate. I'll meet you there."

"This is crazy, Hermione. We're not leaving you," Ginny said, grabbing her arm. The look in the unfamiliar eyes seemed desperate, the grip was so strong she thought Ginny might have drawn blood with how deep her fingernails had sunk.

"You've got no fucking choice, Gin. Go. Please."

Angelina pulled her away, and Hermione booked it in the opposite direction. Her wand was drawn as she made her way through the numerous corridors. There wasn't a means of escape now that the alarms had been tripped.

There were only two ways out of this: hide until the alarms were dropped, which didn't seem likely, as they would keep sounding until her capture. Or the second option, though it seemed next to impossible, was to fight. Her success seemed less and less likely each time she ran the scenario through her head.

There was a third option.

She could turn her own wand on herself.

If she was captured, she knew that the Order would exhaustively look for her. Even if Kingsley said it wasn't worth it, she knew that Harry, Ginny, and Ron wouldn't take no for an answer. How many would they lose trying to retrieve her?

Hermione didn't want to become a liability to the Order.

It wasn't as if she had kids waiting for her. She didn't have a husband or a home. She barely even had a place to consistently sleep every night. If anything, this was the ideal time to find some sort of end. For the greater good.

The war made her think about her own demise more often then she would have liked. She thought it wouldn't be so bad to die on the battlefield, fighting for what she knew was right, protecting the people she loved. Perhaps it was her Gryffindor heart that told her going out in a blaze of glory was the most romantic way to kick the bucket. She'd be surrounded by her friends who knew that she did everything she possibly could.

Dying alone in a cold hallway of the Ministry seemed too… lackluster.

She slumped against the wall, hearing footsteps moving closer towards her. The tip of the vine wood wand pressed against her temple. Mustering every ounce of courage she could, she attempted to let the waves flow over her head, not wanting to feel fear.

But her hand couldn't stop shaking.

"Expelliarmus!"

Hermione countered it quickly, and seeing four masked figures lumbering towards her, she stood straight, holding her wand towards them now. She nearly casted a Bombarda before more Death Eaters approached her from the other end of the hall. Faster than she knew, she became a lone lioness surrounded by hunters.

"Fuckin' hell, is that Potter's mudblood?"

"Sure is. Lord Voldemort is gonna have a field day with this one."

Two Death Eaters grabbed her arms and forced her wand from her hand. They conjured magical shackles around her wrists as she tried to yank herself from their grasp. In a desperate attempt, she shoved a knee into one of the masked men's groin and tried to run. Before she could make a break for it, someone grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her backwards.

An open hand came careening towards her face, the impact made her ears ring and split her bottom lip. She wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the slap.

The Death Eater had a wand, he could have easily casted a spell to render her immobile or make her complicit, but instead, he chose to physically harm her. To humiliate her. As if it was a way to say she was unworthy of magic being cast on her.

Hermione looked up at her assailant, and smiled wide, splitting her lip even further. Warm blood trickled down her chin. "That feel good, big man?"

If Seamus could have seen her now, he would have gotten a kick out of that. Would have told her she looked bloody beautiful.

Bloody beautiful and mad scary.

"Shut up, mudblood."

The Death Eaters pulled her to the elevators, but it wasn't without a struggle. She had kicked, screamed, bit, and shoved the whole way. They had gotten a few back at her, punching her stomach, kicking her back when she fell to her knees.

As the elevator ascended, she saw the numbers tick up and up, until they reached the ninth floor.

The Death Chamber.

Hermione recalled the last time she had been here so vividly. She remembered running through this area, desperately trying to get to safety with her friends. She remembered the look on Harry's face when he saw Sirius Black fall through the stone dais. That look haunted her till this day.

They walked into the large, rectangular room that was surrounded by stone platform steps that descended downward to the pit with the ominous archway, rippling with black mist. It was different though, it seemed that a barrier had surrounded the archway now. A new addition to when she had been here several years ago.

Death Eaters sat around on the steps, mumbling among themselves. At the opposite end of the room, she saw what looked like a large throne. Sat on it was a pale figure, wrapped in a black cloak.

Hermione was pulled across the pit, and thrown onto the cold, stone floor. She saw the bare feet of the pale man, dark veins crept up his legs, but she didn't dare look at him. The archway behind her made her feel uneasy, as she remembered that Harry and Luna could hear voices from it. She couldn't hear anything.

"My Lord, we got the mudblood. Harriett Granger."

"It's Hermione, you idiot."

"I'm an idiot? What kind of name is that anyways?"

"Nearly bit off my finger."

"Will the lot of you shut up?" a voice called out from behind them. Hermione looked over her shoulder to see the emerald mask moving towards them. It looked as if he was almost floating with how his cloak whipped around him. "You're all fucking idiots."

Voldemort let out a grotesque, breathy laugh. "Ah, the omen itself. Care to confirm the identity of this filth before I waste my time entering its mind?"

A pair of icy fingers dug into Hermione's cheeks and jerked her face up and to the side. She was met with lifeless, silver eyes of a boy she once knew. The blue irises of his youth were gone, and were now soulless. His pale lips curled into a half smile. "This is, indeed, Potter's little mudblood."

Draco pushed her face back forward to look at Voldemort. The twisted grin on his serpent-like mouth faded as he realized he could not feel her fear or access her thoughts. She couldn't believe that this was the man that terrified the wizard and muggle world. Voldemort had looked weaker than when she had last laid eyes on him. The impacts of losing horcruxes were physically manifesting.

To her, he resembled a cheap prop from an old horror movie she had seen at the cinema. She remembered Ron being so scared, he spilt the popcorn all over his lap and vowed to never go back to the muggle theater. Hermione couldn't help but to giggle, coming to terms with the situation at hand. Facing death itself could make one go mad.

"Crucio." The word escaped Voldemort's mouth so easily. He had likely said them a hundred times just today.

Pain seared through Hermione's body, all of her joints locked into place as she fell to the floor. She wanted to scream to try to release some of the pressure in her chest, but her throat wouldn't allow it.

As she was released from the curse, relief flooded over her. She stared at the ceiling, which was just an endless darkness, her vision blurred at the sides.

The cold hands lifted her up as if she was weightless, carrying her closer to the throne. A tight grip on her hair forced her head up to look into Voldemort's black eyes. A long, decrepit finger traced her jaw and lifted her chin up.

The Elder wand touched the tip of her temple, and she froze.

Visions flooded her mind of horrors beyond comprehension. The Burrow burning to the ground, screaming echoing in her skull. Harry being tortured in front of the Ministry, his blood seeping into the cobblestone. Ron's lifeless body. The kids. The kids, crying, alone.

When Voldemort exited her mind, she let out a blood-curdling scream. The visions themselves were worse than the Crucio she endured.

"Her mind is a labyrinth. She is hiding all their secrets." Voldemort spoke to the emerald mask behind her. His dark eyes found Hermione again. "Listen to me, mudblood. Legilimency is the least intrusive method of extracting information from you."

"There is nothing you could possibly do. You may as well kill me," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"Or perhaps, I simply make you wish for death."

He sent another Crucio curse, and another, and another.

It felt like hours to her. She writhed on the floor and coughed up bile all while masked men cheered and spit in her direction. Voldemort's grotesque laugh felt like knives in her ears. Death Eaters would kick her in the stomach during the brief reprieves between each Crucio cast on her.

Each time she looked up, she saw Draco Malfoy, standing next to his master, with an expressionless demeanor. Any humanity he may have had was stripped away from him fully.

Monster .

"Enough," Draco eventually said, stopping the onslaught of Death Eaters casting curses and hexes at her. "Her mind needs to stay intact. She is Potter's right hand. Everything the Order has done and will do, she knows."

"Aw, I was havin' fun with Potter's slut," one of the Death Eaters said, his boot on her shoulder.

She had been crawling on the floor, attempting to escape the barrage of attacks. Sweat burned her eyes and her nose dripped blood onto the stone beneath her.

"It seems that pain is not effective with this one, we will have to mentally break her down," Voldemort said disappointingly. "The filth on her is repugnant. Send her to holding, for now."

Draco nodded, and swiftly yanked Hermione up by her upper arm, dragging her back to the elevators. Her toes drug on the ground, and she tirelessly attempted to pull away, but exhaustion and pain was beating through every cell of her body. Assessing the damage, she knew she had at least 2 broken ribs and a minor concussion. Though he didn't let her go, he lowered her so she could rest on her knees once the door closed.

"Keep your neck up, Granger. Your nose is bleeding on my shoes."

"Times getting tough for you, Malfoy?" She coughed a little, tasting iron in her throat. "Can't afford a shoe shine?"

"Insufferable, just as I remember. I suggest you shut the fuck up before I decide to make an afternoon snack out of you."

"And upset your tummy… with my muggle tainted blood?"

He scoffed, tightening his grip. Everything about him was cold. Hermione nearly shivered, feeling ice radiating off of him onto her sweating body. It was almost a soothing reprevie for the pain she was feeling.

"You killed him… Like a savage… Without a second thought… You knew him too. Saw his face… and killed him."

"You act as if I know who you're rambling on about."

"Seamus!" she yelled, taking heavy breaths after forcing his name out.

He clicked his tongue and shrugged. "I don't recall, but I probably did. I've killed plenty of your friends, and you're upset about Seamus Finnagin? Bloke was doomed from the start. Couldn't tell a quaffle from a bludger if it hit him in the head." He laughed coldly, shaking his head. "I guess you do have a type, Granger. Complete, bumbling idiots. Probably made you feel real smart, didn't it? Trust me, he is not a grand loss for your precious Order."

"Fuck you!" She started to beat her chained hands against his shin. "He was one of our best men… and a better man than you'll ever be."

Draco grabbed the chains and pulled her up abruptly, bringing his face so close to hers, she could smell spearmint on his breath. His cold breaths sent a shiver down her spine and made her skin sting. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her fingertips.

His lip twitched before he spoke, exposing his fangs in the dimly lit elevator.

"That's the thing about me, Granger. I am not a man."

The doors opened to a floor with white bricks along the walls. In the center, a woman sat at an ornate desk. She didn't acknowledge their presence until Draco pulled Hermione over to her.

"Merlin, this one is in worse condition than the last," she said, tilting her reading glasses down to get a better look at the beaten witch. "Name?"

"Hermione Granger," Draco answered.

"Fucking hell, that is her, isn't it? Couldn't tell with all that blood on her face. Where'd they pick her up?" The witch at the desk was now standing, getting a better angle of Hermione. She casted a quick spell that cleaned the blood away.

"Records room," he replied, seemingly uninterested in the conversation.

"Fifth floor? She was here?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Can we move this along? I haven't got all day. Wife is at home, dinner to be had, life to be lived. The sorts."

"Yes, sorry Lord Malfoy," she quickly replied. She scribbled a few notes down on a piece of parchment and sent them away. With her wand, she made a sweeping motion and the bricks on the far left wall opened to form a passageway. "Second door is the isolation chamber."

Without another word, he brought Hermione to the cell and tossed her into the room. She braced herself with her chained arms and looked at him under his mask.

"When I get the chance," she groaned, pushing herself to sit up against the wall, "I'm going to… drive a stake through your heart."

A smirk formed on his lips as he stood in the entryway of her cell, humoring her for a moment.

"But I know that isn't enough to kill you… It's just temporary that your heart stops…" She bit the inside of her lip, trying to distract from the throbbing in her ribs. It was hard for her to breathe. "So I'll cut your fucking head off, as cleanly as possible… Stick it in a jar… Put it on my desk or something… Burn the rest of you… to ashes…"

It was just a theory she had from reading extensively on vampirism. It was common belief that a wooden stake in the heart would be enough, but by all accounts that she had read, that was never listed as a cause of death.

Most of the wizard understanding of vampires was slim, due to self preservation efforts done by their kind. Vampires were often the target of past eradication efforts, alongside the likes of werewolves and banshees, so they hid their weaknesses. Hermione had to often resort to muggle books, as accessing wizard libraries and records was difficult as a fugitive of war. It was a theory, but a well informed one.

He wet his lips and ran the tip of his tongue along his fangs, still wearing that smirk on his face. "You have been thinking about me, Granger."