How in the hell did they manage to live like this, she wondered. How could they trundle along, playing the benevolent and chastened apothecary as they sold off cheap wares to low-ranking merchants in Diagon, never once setting their sights on bettering their situation? At least in the cage Hermione had been able to cast her own judgement, make herself known and let her voice carry weight because she still fucking  used it.