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Summary
Her scar was burning again.
It never really stopped. It hurt all the time, every day, at least a bit. At this point, waking up with a dull ache or irritating sting meant Hermione was in for a great day. The background level of pain was akin to a dripping tap or beeping smoke detector she had learned to ignore. Days where she didn’t need to take anything to numb the pain and could smile and laugh almost like nothing was wrong. Almost like normal.
Some days were not as good. Some days it throbbed, itched, pulsated and spiked shooting fire in random bursts. Days where she was prone to be short-tempered; snapping at people, impatient and abrasive but still herself. Still held together and coping just fine. Less good days.
Today though, today the fucking thing burned. It was going to be a Bad Day.