Chapter 2
Hermione spent her days leading up to meeting with Malfoy studying ardently. Poring over books until her eyes burned from the constant straining. No one batted an eye at her while she read during dinner, or when she was up reading in the middle of the night while she had a twelve hour shift the next day.
Books had always given her what she needed to be successful, but in this situation she was hopeless. Nothing she read could give her what she needed. She felt hopeless.
She read everything over and over again, while taking notes on how to be a handler. The books say to make them feel as if they're not important, treat them like they are expendable. The books also say not to fall in love with her. The thought of falling in love with Malfoy made her snort. There is nothing about him to love. He was a sadist, he got off on hurting others. He was arrogant and cruel, always putting others down to make himself feel good.
Maybe the reason she read so late into the nights even though the books were not giving her anything was because if she slept, that meant dreaming. Working as a healer comes at a cost. You lose more lives than you save, and those lives you lose come back to haunt you. Her dreams were filled with their faces and screams. She had to relive the times she wasn't smart enough or fast enough to help them.
The death she dreamt about most was Colin Creevey. He had been the first child she couldn't save. He had only been sixteen when he died. He had been hit with a boiling curse. His skin had started to grow painful bubbles, he was scolding hot to the touch. His insides soon became boiling. She had used a series of cooling charms and spells to stop it, but nothing worked. There was no countercurse as this was newly developed. Hermione had poured dreamless Sleep down his throat. Nothing. Draught of Living Death. Nothing. She shot stunners at him with absolutely no luck. He was forced to stay alive and feel the pain. The curse boiled through his small body. There was nothing she could do, she had to restrain him while she shot any spell that could possibly slow it down or stop it. She had sometimes wondered if he was targeted because he was muggle-born, or if it was just at random. He didn't deserve it either way, he was so young.
Colin Creevey's last words were: "Tell Harry I said thanks for letting me fight."
Colin had adored Harry from the very beginning. Always following him around school and taking pictures of Harry. He wanted his autograph so bad, Harry had been his hero. Colin looked up to Harry, and Harry and Hermione and Ron had turned him away at every time he came around.
She should have given him a chance to hang around them, he looked up to the trio.
Hermione would sometimes visit his grave to tell him how sorry she was. It was days like that day that make her regret not going into hiding. She sometimes wishes she would have obliviated herself when she did her parents.
Hermione had gotten half an hour after his death. She sat on the bathroom floor and sobbed violently to the point of vomiting. She didn't eat for days after. Most nights she still needs a potion to sleep. His death traumatized her. She could still smell his burning flesh and hear his screams when she thought of him. She would never recover.
The only thing that slightly helped was occluding. She wasn't the best but she could manage to push it behind other thoughts.
She is always exhausted, this job drains the life out of her yet, she has no choice. The order relies on her. She is a valuable asset. Without her The Order would need to give up someone to be trained to be a healer. They did not have the time or resources for that.
She had been taught by Severus to deconstruct curses and find out their counter curse, he had also spent time teaching her potions so she could brew any type of potion known to wizards, but with the lack of supplies, she could barely create the basic potions they needed. Her healing training came from studying with Pomfrey. She had started her training when Umbridge was Head of Hogwarts. Then, Dumbledore had died and that's when Hermione devoted every spare minute she had to learn to heal. His death was the beginning of the war.
So many people's lives rested on The Orders shoulders, whether they know it or not. Winning this war was the only way to save countless muggle-born lives. Hermione feared that even the muggle world would be at stake in the hands of Voldemort.
Her mind continued to drift to Malfoy. She loathed him; he was such a vile kid. The thought of him as an adult made her sick. He had started this war by killing Dumbledore. He had killed so many of her friends. He caused so much pain in so many lives. But he was willing to switch sides, and fight for us now. She couldn't understand him and his motives.
She hated him, deeply. She blamed him for everything. This all was his fault. All the pain she felt, and the people she couldn't save. She put it on his shoulders.
Hermione wanted to cry. She wanted to bang her head against the wall to stop the thoughts. She wanted to cry until there was nothing left. Cry until it was all gone.
She had to learn to mask this hatred. She couldn't let him know he meant something. She couldn't use him if all she saw is red.
After the war she could hate him openly. After the war. Now she had to use him. Maybe that could satisfy her. She could drain him. Use him until he had nothing left to give. When she was done with him, he would beg for forgiveness. He deserved to burn in hell.
Though, if his efforts were good enough to change the outcome of the war, they owed him. If they won, The Order owed their lives to him. The war rested on his shoulders. He started it, and how it ends is up to him. She put it all on him.
Just as she had pulled her thoughts away from him, Kingsley came with news. "You meet with him tomorrow, the forest of Dean."
Part of her resented him now. He had just put so much on her shoulders, adding to everything else that already weighed on her. He knew she couldn't say no and he played that; used her.
She thought about Harry. Had he known how far she was willing to go for him? What would he think of her if he knew what she was doing? She was doing it for him. Everything she did was to save him. She would throw herself before Voldemort if that meant Harry and The Order would live.
Harry had felt the weight of the war. He knew everyone was risking their lives for him, and he hated it. He pushed himself away from everyone. He had lost his parents and his godfather. The closest thing he had to family was the Weasleys and Hermione. He was terrified of them dying, losing the only family he had left. If the Weasleys or Hermione died, Harry would blame himself.
Harry had finally allowed himself to show the world he loves Ginny. He had always known but he was scared of showing it. He was worried she would get targeted for being with him.
Ron had Lavender. Almost everyone had someone. They all had someone who loved them, someone they could come home to after a long day of training. Everyone but Hermione. She occupied herself with work and books to mask the void of loneliness inside of her. She had fancied Ron once, they even kissed- he was terrible. After the kiss she felt things weren't right. He had continued to push her and try to pursue something that wasn't there. Sometimes she felt something was wrong with her. Ron was sweet and he cared for her, he was brave and loyal. She was supposed to want to be with him but couldn't force herself.
Her constant pressure of using lethal spells had pushed Harry and Ron from her. They hardly talked to her unless it was necessary. They told her at some point she had to draw a line. That she shouldn't use something that would change her in the long run. She would kill for them. They had been her first friends. They made her feel like she belonged somewhere. Now, they pushed her away, made her feel alone for the first time since she started at Hogwarts.
Why couldn't they see she was willing to ruin herself to save them? That's love. She loved them and they made her feel like a villain for that.
Hermione stopped thinking about Harry. She had an important day tomorrow.
The warmth between her thighs called. She slid her fingers down her waistband to pleasure herself. What better way to fall asleep was there?
When Hermione woke up the next morning she made herself a cup of tea as she was still too nauseous to eat.
She met with Tonks to mull things over and hopefully get insight on how to be a handler.
Nymphadora Tonks was the lead in questioning and gathering information from our hostages. Tonks was rough. She terrified Hermione, but she could learn things from her.
"Hello, Mione." Tonks says with a milk and honey tone. She pulls Hermione in for a hug. "Tea?" Hermione shakes her head no.
Tonks smile fades into a hard line across her tanned face. Her arm moves out and gestures to sit. Hermione pulls a chair out and sits across from her.
"You've never done anything like this before?" The woman asks with seriousness tangled in her tone.
"Never." Hermione admits.
Dora's lip quirks in a pity smile to Hermione. "This is going to be hard Hermione. Things are going to get complicated between you and him. I know what your thinking, but at some point there will be some sort of feelings. You will spend a lot of time together, its inevitable." She says with a sympathetic tone.
"I will never care about this man, Dora. I don't care what the books say. If our lives weren't depending on him, I would slit his throat and not feel a thing." Hermione sneers and apparates to the Forest of Dean.