Days tick by in a monotony that is exhausting in its very self, and Hermione feels like she has been here forever. The time before her captivity seems unreal; so long ago, memories so fuzzy compared to the vivid suffering in her recent past, and the thought of ever getting back to Harry and Ron and the Order seems like a childish fantasy. This is Hermione's life now. It has only been a little less than two months now, but this captivity has eaten who she is, devoured everything and left her hollow and hopeless and turned inside out. Hermione can't even imagine going back. So much has changed. How would she face them all? How could she ever hope to fit in again? She knows it isn't her fault, but it happened and it can't be taken back, or fixed, and if she ever escapes from this hell she doesn't think returning to the Order will end the ordeal, only start the next part of it.