Chapter Text
Anticipation was always the worst part.
A man with dark green robes marched ahead of her, a path he’d clearly walked a million times.
The hallways were made of a tan stone but most of it crumbled around at her feet. She wasn’t really looking at the walls though. No, Hermione was looking at the bodies that littered the floors. The further they walked, the more that seemed to appear.
She had always loved Hogwarts. She attended only briefly, in her fourth year she decided to transfer to Altheneas Wizarding School of Medicine.
Hermione and every other fourth year is given the chance to leave and specialize in a certain area of magic if they wish, or stay at Hogwarts and get a rounded education. As nice as it sounded, Hermione had a talent for healing she couldn’t ignore.
Neither could Madam Pomfrey.
Who, to Hermiones surprise, wrote a recommendation for her before she had even decided a specialty. She had cornered her in the last semester, urging her to pick healing before the final day for transfer submission arrived.
So she did. She left right after her fourth year summer had ended. Mailed all her friends with promises to write and see them during breaks.
A professor in dark green robes had come to her door that night, reminiscent of the night McGonagall came to give her her letter. But this time, the woman held a port key, and she held her bags. They had spun off, to a little place called the Isle of Wight. Where, instead of a castle, lay a fortress, carved into a mountain that rested by the beach side. Tan stones were replaced with grey walls covered with ivy and other greenery. It was beautiful, she had thought. And for the next 3 years she studied there, in the beautiful but isolated palace.
A year later she had stopped receiving letters from her friends. A second war was on the brink, she had heard. Of course she knew of Harry seeing Voldemort during the tournament, but that seemed like forever ago, and nothing had happened since. Until June 17, 1996 when the ministry announced a state of war on Voldemort and his Death Eaters.
Her school was kept very in the dark of the world's current state. She could only get bits and pieces of what was happening when she was on her summer breaks.
Professors would dip in and out of the school periodically throughout her years, usually to help aid in the war. They’d come back having made many vows of secrecy and unable to share with the students the horrors that lay outside their island paradise.
These horrors weren't kept away forever. And eventually they had to graduate.
Hermione came out top of her class, the headmasters favorite, and despised by many. She thought being around other healers would be good but in reality it was a highly competitive environment. Everyone wanting to go to the best hospitals and healeries.
Her headmaster, Headmaster Winler, was one of the staff to disappear for months at a time to aid in the war. He’d always come back with a new badge attached to his robes, a sign of his incredible skills. But with each visit he came back more tired. Less upbeat.
Now Hermione walked behind him. His star pupil, his apprentice. Upon graduation he offered her two choices. Any hospital of her choosing, or to apprentice under him.
She had never made a faster decision.
But this decision came with cons. For example, here they were, walking the halls of her old school, on their way to deal with the world's most infamous criminals, instead of the hero’s sitting in St Mungo’s.
The dead bodies littering the ground just adding to Hermione's anxiety.
Headmaster Winler, Hermione, and a handful of other students and professors had taken on Death Eater cases while local healers dealt with The Good Sides injured. Those on Voldemort's side that managed to survive, were being held in the basement of Hogwarts, chained and beaten. There weren't that many, so they all split up the cases. More healers taking on more dangerous cases.
That's why Headmaster Winler and Hermione walked together now, they had been given the most dangerous case.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
She had barely heard any stories about her. Everything she could get her hands on wasnt good. Harry mentioned her once in a letter before he stopped writing to her in her sixth year. He didn't say anything specific, just mentioning Sirius’ evil cousin.
Headmaster Winler paused suddenly, causing Hermione to nearly run into his back. His eyes were wide and he was holding his breath. Listening.
“What is it, Headmaster?” Hermione whispered next to him.
He shook his head, his graying red curls bobbing side to side, “Somethings wrong. We should’ve run into the aurors by now that are holding Lestrange.” He slid his wand out and began to walk again, avoiding the massive stones and rubble that blocked their path.
That's when they finally heard it.
A flash of yellow hit the wall a few yards in front of them where a dip in the hallway began. Headmaster Winler ran ahead while Hermione fumbled to get her wand out.
She wasn't trained in any way to fight. Besides some self defense classes and sleeping spells she learned, she would be useless if they had to fight. Let alone if they had to fight a war criminal.
They made their way to the dip in the hallway which led to a door frame, the door blasted off of it laying on the ground in front of them. On the inside, five aurors battled a woman in black, her curls obscuring her face. It made Hermione wonder how she could even fight with all that hair.
Turns out she could fight pretty well. Even when Headmaster Winler had entered the fray, the woman could still hold her own. Fortunately, it only took a few more minutes until shackles finally flew into her wrists, slamming her into the wall behind.
The crack from her head echoed around the room, loud enough for Hermione, still outside the room, to hear. She winced and watched as the aurors all quickly cast multiple binding spells around her.
“We should just give her a swift end now.” One of the brown haired aurors commented.
“Auror Ripply, I assume?” Headmaster Winler asked.
The auror looked him up and down, and upon seeing his badges, wiped the cruel look off his face.
“Headmaster Winler, I apologize, we weren't expecting you until tomorrow,”
“Yes, however, Headmaster McGonagall requested we come early due to the… difficulty… of some of the Death Eaters.”
A snarl sounded from the woman chained to the wall. Her wand had been confiscated, magic reducing binds placed on her wrists, and thick chains currently locking her to the sandy wall behind.
Her face was no longer obscured by her curls, they were just pushed back enough that Hermione could finally make out the beaten face of Bellatrix lestrange.
Hermione finally entered the room, approaching the group that stood in front of the chained woman.
Her eyes snapped right to Hermiones. Dark bloodshot irises looked at her with a hatred Hermione had never felt before. She had seen a picture of Bellatrix Lestrange in her case file. A woman of perfect poise and arrogance only a magical camera could capture.
There was no poise now, no arrogance. Just anger, hatred, and despair.
Chained and restrained like an animal. To be fair, Hermione thought, she looks like an animal.
Another cracked scream left her mouth, but before she could finish her breath, an auror placed a silencing spell on her.
“Good thing you got here when you did Headmaster Winler, we hadn’t realized how powerful she still was with wandless magic. Broke through our restraints twice before you got here and we locked her down.” Said an older auror, with dark skin and a fresh slash through his face.
“Hermione, help Auror Meadow and the others whilst I assess our new patient.” Headmaster Winler said before walking towards the silent but deranged woman a few feet away.
Hermione quickly got to work, binding up Auror Meadows slash on his face. He had a few bruises but he waved her away to take care of the others.
She healed up two more who were seriously injured before she got to Auror Ripply. He had two nasty gashes on the right side of his head as if he had been slammed against a wall multiple times. After a few numbing and anti-infection spells she easily wrapped it up with her Pocket-MediWrap and moved on to his other wounds. She instructed him to lift his robes for her and with reluctance he showed his stomach to her. Bruised but not cut. She handed him a draught for the pain she had stored in one of her bags.
Hermione cast a quick spell over him seeing if she missed anything. A white light washed over him like the others she has assessed and it stopped right over his crotch. She glanced up at him to see his cheeks redden.
“She kneed me earlier. I'm fine” he grumbled.
“As long as you're sure.” Hermione murmured before heading to the last auror. A girl with short blonde hair. She looked the least injured but when Hermione cast her spell over her, the white light glowed brightly over her ribs.
She had internal bleeding and multiple broken ribs upon inspection.
“You're going to have to floo to St Mungos, I don't have everything I need to help you since most of your wounds are internal.” Hermione stated, glancing at Auror Meadow to make sure he heard.
He nodded and told one of the other aurors to escort her to the floo network in the headmasters office. The two took off out of the room which left Hermione with three aurors and Headmaster Winler.
The silencing spell still hadn’t been lifted from Madam Lestrange even though in Hermione's ethics book, silencing spells are only to be used upon a patient's request or if a healer signs off on it.
She supposed paperwork wouldn't really be necessary in this circumstance.
“Hermione, come here” Headmaster Winler called.
She walked over, wand shaking slightly as the Death Eater traced her every step.
“Tell me what's wrong with her.” He said once Hermione got close enough.
She sent her spell over the woman, causing her to shake slightly in her chains. Even physically and magically restrained Bellatrix Lestrange still caused the binds to bend slightly under her power.
Hermione watched the white light wash over her and stop in multiple areas.
Her face, three slashes went through her gaunt cheekbone as if an animal had scratched her. Next, a stupify had landed on her top left collarbone, shattering it. A little further down, her dress was ripped, showing a bloody gash on her right hip. And finally, her right ankle was broken.
Even in her wild state, Madam Lestrange wasn't the most injured person she had examined in the room.
“Her left cheek is slashed, easy to heal. Her left collarbone is broken into fragments, she’ll need skelegrow and probably multiple soothing droughts for the regrowth pain. There’s a gash on her right hip, it didn't hit anything important but it's deep enough that the skin stitching spell will leave a minor scar. And her right ankle is broken. Once again, skelegrow will help it but it’ll heal slower than her collarbone.”
She could barely see Headmaster Winlers smile through his thick beard but he nodded and looked back to the Death Eater.
“She’ll need to be admitted to St Mungos. But don’t worry, there's a special floor the other Death Eaters are being held on so that they can’t interfere with the healing of other wizards and witches.” He said, now looking at Auror Meadow.
“How will we transport her?” Hermione asked.
“Portkey most likely. It's the safest option as long as we body bind her securely. Don't want her twisting and turning during teleportation, lest she splinch.” Meadow said.
“One could only hope.” Auror Ripply said darkly.
Ignoring his comment, Headmaster Winler checked his pocket watch. “I know we're a day early, but hopefully her room is ready. Do you know what the room number is? Minerva said you’d have it ready for us upon arrival.”
“0093. It's on the basement level, so there's no heating in place for the rooms,” Meadow replied. “Not that Lestrange isnt used to the cold.” His eyes watched Madam Lestrange, she had stopped trying to scream a few minutes ago and now stared at her wand securely attached to Auror Meadows robes.
“What are you going to do with her wand?”
Hermione couldn't help herself sometimes. A question would just materialize into her head and she just needed to ask it. It was a weird thing to ask. She shouldn’t care. In fact, the less she knew the happier she’d probably be. That wand had caused an unimaginable amount of suffering. It was probably best if it was disposed of.
“Incineration, probably. Snapping a wand just releases its magic back into the world. But by burning the wand you burn the magic away too. It’ll permanently weaken Lestranges magical core. She’d never be as strong again, so it’s probably what the ministry will do.”
There was a fear Hermione didn't think she could feel. She had been scared before, but hearing about someone’s wand being burned? It was enough to almost make her argue against it, but she realized it wasn't Meadows’ decision.
She had imagined they'd lock it away somewhere no one would ever find it. Let a dragon eat it up or throw it in a locked box in the ocean. Anything but incineration.
A rumble sounded next to them, and when Hermione turned, she saw a new crack developed in the wall where Lestranges left wrist was chained.
A hand at her back brought her back to reality and she realized, like the other aurors in the room, she had her wand out and ready. She quickly put it away as Headmaster Winler recast his body bind.
“Well, we mustn’t waste more time. Is the portkey here?” Winler asked, eyes not leaving Lestrange.
She had never seen him nervous, had seen her headmaster tired, angry, and worried. But never nervous. That's how Hermione knew, Bellatrix was someone to be feared.
If she made one of the strongest wizards Hermione knew nervous, then Bellatrix Lestrange should be making her shake with fear. Good thing her bright green robes were thick, or else she might shake them off with her newfound nerves.
“Yes, make sure you have her secure. We have to stay here and make sure the rest of the auror groups aren’t having issues with their respective Death Eaters.” Meadow said, pulling out a small patch with a big red ‘M’ on it.
“Well be alright, won't we Hermione?” Meadows asks, elbowing her.
“Just fantastic.” She said, eyeing the oddly still witch next to them.
“Well since it's all sorted we'll be on our way. Just sign this release form saying you are taking over her custody and the key should send you right outside her door room.”
Auror Meadows held out a thick roll of parchment and quill, spelled to stick to the bottom. Winler signed it quickly, returning the quill as a spark of light blue shot out, stinging his hand, symbolizing the custody exchange.
“Alright Hermione, grab my robes and hold your breath.” It was a joke to lighten the mood. Floos, apparition, and port keys always made her sick. Holding your breath was proven to not help but still he told her to do it, saying it would cure her nausea.
It never did.
She grabbed his robes right before they spun through the air. Holding her breath out of habit as they spun through the world.
They landed just outside a dark wooden door just as Auror Meadow had said. Rusted silver numbers read ‘0093’ on the door.
The hallway was long and dark, the walls were not the bright white of the other floors of the hospital, but a greyed out blue. A few torches lit the walls but nothing else decorated the hallway.
Bellatrix Lestrange was rigid next to them, held up by magic but in the same pose as when she was chained to the wall. Arms up, body rigid from the bindings. Chains still stuck to her wrists but were no longer attached to anything.
Headmaster Winler waved his wand over the door and watched as it creaked open. The room was just as drab as the hallway. Grey/blue walls, a small cot and bedside table to the far right and a light fixed on the ceiling. A restroom to the left of the room laid open, only a curtain secured to the ceiling, should a patient need privacy.
It was a poor excuse for a patient's room but it was all a criminal was deemed worthy of. Hermione was honestly surprised it was as nice as it was. She imagined a dark cave with a bucket and a blanket. But in reality, the wizarding world wasn't so cruel.
“How long will we care for her before her trial?” Hermione finally broke the silence and Winler glanced back to her as he secured Lestrange to the bed.
He had removed her chains and moved her arms back to her side. She didn't look as rigid either, one might think she was laying there normally. But she wasn't, the binds around her were so thick, Hermione swore she could see the magic.
Winler sighed and turned back to Lestrange, healing her exterior wounds before he rang for a mediwitch to bring in potions.
“She won't be having a trial, Hermione.”
His look was one of absolute seriousness. Jaw clenched, back straight, a poster of professionalism if she ever saw one.
“What? That can’t be right. No criminal just doesn't get a trial? How will they decide her fate?”
“Listen to me Hermione,” He glanced at Lestrange before walking Hermione out of the room to wait for the mediwitch.
“Shes a murderer, Hermione. Shes tortured, killed, and done unspeakable things in service to Lord Voldemort during this war. She had her trial years ago, and then she broke out and did more unspeakable things. There isn't a soul alive that doesn’t want to see her get the kiss. No, there will be no trial, once we’ve healed her, she'll be off to her sentencing just like some of the other Death Eaters.”
“That's not fair.”
It was an instant response. A true healer's response.
No one deserves to die, not even the most vile of creatures. Human or animal. Hermione thought.
“We don't decide her fate. Shacklebolt will. He’s the new Minister for Magic. And his decision is based on what the wizarding world wants. And they want revenge.”
A mediwitch appears just then with a cart of potions.
“Is Bellatrix Lestrange really in there?” The witch whispers, as if Lestrange might hear her.
“She is, thank you for the potions.” Winler takes the cart and heads back into the room, Hermione trailing behind.
It wasn’t fair. No trial? It was unheard of. At least a trial to decide if she gets the kiss. It was the least someone could offer a criminal. Even if that criminal was as evil as Bellatrix Lestrange.
Hermione walked past Headmaster Winler, who was beginning to cut away pieces of Lestranges clothes to get a better view of her wounds.
She was still in her battle clothes. Bloodied, dirty, and torn up, she would need a new pair of patient gowns before they left tonight. A bath would be appropriate too but Hermione didn't know if Winler was up for bathing a woman about to die.
Did she know? Hermione wondered.
Did she know she was about to die? Probably. She had lost, her lord dead, and her comrades dead or chained up with the same fate ahead of them.
Her eyes had lost their crazed look. It seemed the post war adrenaline had worn off and exhaustion had hit the witch.
Headmaster Winler motioned for Hermione to administer the potions on the cart.
She walked over and began uncorking the potions and laying them out in order of administration. Skelegrow, second degree dosage. Soothing draught, third degree dosage. And a blood replenishing potion, first degree dosage.
“Just a first degree for the blood replenishing potion?” Hermione asked.
Lestrange hadn’t sustained a lot of injuries during the battle, but the ones she did have hadn’t stopped bleeding since they got to Mungos.
“The healers here aren’t as inclined to help her as they would other patients.”
Hermione gently took Lestranges mouth and pried it open to start giving her the potions. Ugly rotted teeth greeted her, a foul smell rising out of her mouth.
Hermione wrinkled her nose, mentally adding teeth refreshing potion to the list of things Lestrange needed.
She poured each potion down carefully, Winler propping Lestrange up just enough so the potion could slide down her throat without choking her.
“Should we bathe her?” Hermione asks anyway. The smell of fire, blood, and sweat coming off of the witch below them.
“Usually elves would scourgify her but I'm worried they might break my spells if they tamper with her too much.”
He thinks for a second.
“Why don't you give her a sponge bath? It’ll give us an opportunity to change her clothes too. I need to go check with the head mediwitch for keys to her room anyway. Magical locks won't be able to keep everyone out”
“Why would we need to keep people out?”
“Shes The Dark Lord’s right hand, everyone will be trying to get their piece of revenge before her…” Winler trails off looking back to Lestrange. She’s bound but not deaf, Hermione knows Winler doesn't want to say her fate around her.
“Anyway, I'm off to get those keys, just snap for an elf and they’ll get you what you need. If you need me I'm only a summon away.”
He flashes a smile before heading out the door, leaving Hermione alone with Lestrange.
Hermione snaps her fingers and sure enough, a little pinkish pale elf appears, a red ‘M’ sewn into their clothes.
“How may Finkley help!” The little elf squeaks up at Hermione.
“A sponge, soap, and some clean water please.” Hermione says.
The elf pops away as soon as she stops talking and pops back with his hands holding up a sloshing bucket of clean water and a sponge floating inside. Shampoo sits in his other hand and he places them on the now empty potions cart.
“May Finkley get anything else for you Mistress?”
Hermione thinks and then remembers her mental list from earlier, “Teeth refreshing potion would be lovely.”
The elf pops away again and shortly returns placing the new potion on the table.
“May Finkley get anything else for you Mistress?” Finkley repeats.
“No, thank you Finkley.”
The elf bows, a pleased smile on his face, before popping back out of the room to probably help another healer.
Hermione turns to the witch lying in the bed. Eyes now closed and body breathing deep and slow. They hadn’t given her a sleeping draught, so Hermione cautiously walks back over to the witch.
She uses her wand to slowly cut away the fabric on Lestranges body, watching to see if she’d open her eyes. She doesn't.
Careful to not disturb her body too much, Hermione slips the ripped up clothes off the woman and wrestles with the corset to come off. Once she gets it off she casts a warming spell on the witch and discards the clothes onto the cart.
She picks up the bucket and soap and begins to add some to the sponge, rubbing it in gently with her hand. She transfigures an empty potion bottle from earlier into a chair and rests beside Lestrange, whose eyes have yet to open.
Maybe the sleeping draughts were too strong for her? Hermione had checked her file. No known allergies or sensitivities to any potions.
She shakes her head, assuming the witch is trying to trick her.
Hermione began the bath with the witches face, careful to avoid the newly healed gash on her cheek. Her other cheek stands out, smooth skin pulled tightly over the bone.
Hermione admires the skin on the witch, sickly pale, but smoother than her own.
She re-dips her sponge and moves to Lestranges collar bones. Also standing out against the skin. Skin so pale the shadows look unnatural against her body. The azkaban tattoo only visible when she moves her head to the side to get behind her neck.
Hermione ignores it, continuing the bath as quickly as she can.
Arms were next, and only hard muscle greets her. She didn't think the witch looked particularly strong but it seemed years of azkaban had eaten away any fat she had on her body. No freckles or moles, just a few scars here and there.
Her hands were also thin, delicate and long fingers greeted Hermione. She wondered how such weak looking hands inflicted so much terror.
Hermione quickly went over her torso and stomach, she didn't want to linger there longer than necessary. The occasional scar raised up to greet her sponge as she slid it over a thin stomach.
Legs and feet were next and easy enough to clean. Hermione was surprised to see both her hands and feet had trimmed nails. She supposed she imagined all Death Eaters as unkempt animals. Unable to imagine how a normal human could be so evil.
Lastly was Lestranges back, Hermione would have to lift her up for this part. She gently lifted Lestrange to a sitting position and connected her arms around her neck. They were basically in a hugging position but Hermione was too scared to cast anything to help her sit up in case it tampered with Winlers binds.
She washed her back as best as she could, but when she went to set Lestrange back down, her eyes were now open.
They stared at each other, black curls enveloping the rest of Hermione's view.
“I’m sorry.” Hermione rushed, putting the woman back down.
She looked a little cleaner and smelled a lot better now. Hermione decided to leave her hair alone now that the woman was actively watching her.
“I have one last potion for you. It's not poison I promise.” Hermione tried to joke and then mentally slapped herself.
“I’m sorry that was a stupid thing to say. I just mean I know a lot of people don't like you and you don’t know me and,” She stopped herself before she said anything more.
“It’s just something to help with your teeth. It's stupid.” Hermione sighed, uncorking the small bottle.
She gently opened lestranges mouth and poured the contents down. Dark, heavily lidded eyes watched her.
They were no longer wide open and wild, like a cornered animal. Now they were observing, watching her through a predatory gaze.
Hermione stood back up and transfigured the chair back to its original form.
All that was left now was to put Lestranges gown on.
“I would use magic to do this next bit but I'm worried it’ll tamper with the wards holding you down. Sorry.” Hermione spoke softly as she grabbed the light blue gown and started sliding the Death Eaters arms through the holes.
Luckily the ties were on the sides of the gown and Hermione didn't need to lift her up too much. She just needed to get her head through the top of the gown and move it down her back to reach the front ties.
After tying up the gown Headmaster Winler finally opened the door back up with two brass keys in his hand. They looked completely normal but Hermione knew the truth.
“I had the witch at the counter make a copy for you, sorry it took so long.” He said, handing her one and observing her work.
Lestranges eyes were still on her but Hermione didn't have time to analyze it as Winler offered his hand to her to go.
“We'll be staying in a village nearby, separate rooms don't worry. The other healers that came with us will be there too if you need anything. Well check on her tomorrow and see how her repairs are coming. I doubt it’ll take more than two days for her to fully heal.”
Hermione nodded, feeling they key beneath her hand. She felt the magic around it, a key tied to several seals in the room so that not just anyone could get in.
“We’d better let her rest. I’m sure you and the others will want to grab dinner, there's a little pub next to the inn we’re staying at.” Winler started walking towards the door. Subconsciously Hermione followed. Sparing the witch in bed one last glance before dimming the lights and leaving.
They walked to the end of the hall, past two other doors with varying numbers on them. But they didn't see any other healers around.
A bell was at the end of the hall, Winler grabbed her arm and comically held his breath before grabbing it. They spun quickly and landed in front of the desk at the entrance to the hospital. She gripped her stomach and bowed a little as the nausea rushed through her once again.
Soothing circles were rubbed on her back before Winler walked to the front desk, pulling some paperwork out of his robes.
“Patient 0093’s injury records for the day. Her healers are clocking out.”
“No problem, have a good rest of your day.” The old desk woman said, magicing the file to fly away into the records room that spun viciously behind her.
They walked out of the hospital, Headmaster Winler grabbing a broom sitting there waiting for him.
“You don't expect me to broom to the village do you?” Hermione says. Eyeing the other brooms that lay outside the building.
“Don't be ridiculous, you'll ride with me. I’m not looking for another patient, the one I have now is plenty of work.” He chuckles and scoots up, allowing her room to mount up behind him.
The ride to the village was quick, a short few minutes before the wooden buildings peak above the hills.
They land outside a moderate sized wooden building, its pointed peaks sitting high above some of the other buildings in the village.
Inside, Winler hangs up his broom next to a few others Hermione recognizes. They flash their healers badges and the innkeeper hands them two separate keys.
“I'll be at the pub nearby if you need me tonight. Your room should have your cases.”
Winler shoots her a smile before walking right back out the door.
Hermione heads up the stairs, mentally exhausted by her day.
She hadn’t really processed the day's events. Hermione and the rest of the team had been portkeying left and right all day. Not to mention the several dead bodies she had seen in just one day.
Once Hermione got to her room she opened the door and headed straight for the bed. She had long since lost her appetite and was in no mood to gossip with her fellow healers.
She took off her outer robe, three golden chain hooks connecting the front together. It was shorter than Headmaster Winlers. A lighter green than his too, that cut off halfway down her thigh. After that, she was left in her white mediwitch dress and satchel belt. Unhitching the belt, she then unzips the back of her dress, shimming out of it.
Hermione finally glanced around the room, looking around where she'd be staying for a few days.
It wasn't too bad. A small room with dark brown wood lining the floors and walls. A decent bed in the middle of the room. And a bathroom she would have to share with her neighbor.
No closet or side tables. Just a small vanity in the corner for her clothes and knicknacks.
Hermione flopped down onto the bed, kicking her shoes off in the process.
What a day. She hadn’t imagined she'd ever be in this kind of situation. She had imagined once she graduated she would head off to some small hospital and train under a respected mediwitch.
No. Here Hermione was, back in her old school that had just been attacked. And she was healing the ones who destroyed it. Not just her though. The other professors and students they hand picked were stuck with just as bad patients. They were left with the vile people that sought to take it. Who hated Hermione's blood and wanted nothing more than to eradicate it.
It would definitely be a rough night for Hermione. She hadn’t really thought about how she felt healing Bellatrix Lestrange. Putting her personal views aside to professionally help someone in need.
Best not to dwell.
She shut her eyes.
Tomorrow will be easier.