Hermione, too, is functioning alone where in the past she was constantly one of a group, a team. Perhaps that's why for a moment, after she stumbles to her own feet, she can only stand stock still and stare at the people in front of her- and the blood, of course. Merlin, yes. Hard to miss.

She exhales a breath she hadn't noticed she was holding in a shaky gasp as Tatiana speaks to her- why her, she wonders? She's alright, it's the anonymous people on the ground who need help.

She seized by a sudden desperate need to know their names, but that's pointless.

"Yes, fine," she says, her voice higher than it should be, and then she's back on the ground again, but crouching of her own volition rather than falling, bruised knees hitting the pavement without a wince as she kneels by one of the injured. "Can you do magic, medicine, healing- anything? I can't get them all." Some of them are as good as gone already, but Hermione can't let herself think like that. "My bag, there are medical supplies if you need them-" she says disjointedly without looking up, and then, to the person she's beside- "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this is going to hurt..."

She has her wand out, and the bag on the floor beside her opens apparently on its own, vials and jars coming flying out of it to hover in midair- she doesn't have to use her wand to make them behave as she wants them to anymore, especially not in a crisis situation. Funny, how the worse things get the better she is at this sort of magic.

Well, not very funny.

She hadn't been here for much of the fight- the last five minutes, perhaps. She hadn't been a better combatant than any of the rest, as far as she knows- she'd just had better timing.

It's a terrifying thought, but she keeps her mind on the job, and tries to keep her hands from shaking.