I look down again, some of the blood has fallen on my wet hands, spreading out and giving the illusion that they are fully covered in blood. Ironic. This will be my future, blood on my hands. I’m a Death Eater. I’m surrounded by Death Eaters and yet I feel at ease. I sleep next to one, make love to one, feel accepted. I’m not Hermione Granger anymore. She was kind, fought for justice for all, was called a Mudblood almost every day and didn’t let them see the effects, she would only cry in the shower. Letting her tears disappear under the streaming hot water, as if they never existed.