Hermione is losing it at times
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Hermione frowned as she stood outside Flourish and Blotts, studying the window display intently. Her mind was distracted, as it had been since the war. It had been six months since Voldemort was defeated. Six months since Bellatrix had been killed. Six months since she had discovered that not all was as it seemed, her mind was no longer her own. She hadn’t told anyone of course, knowing they would believe she was crazy or suffering some form of PTSD from the torture she had gone through at the woman’s hands. The only one who knew was her new house elf, which was strangely her only confidant besides the other voice in her mind.
Admit it, it wasn’t that bad. It could have been worse. You’ve seen the things I’ve done long before you came along.
She grimaced at the woman’s voice, not wanting to agree but being unable to. She agreed that it could have been much worse than a cursed dagger carving ‘Mudblood’ into her creamy skin. However, neither of them knew just what curse that dagger had, though the fact that Voldemort had given it to Bellatrix should have been a clue.