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Hermione let out a long sigh of contentment. She was lucky that McGonagall had agreed to let her spend her seventeenth birthday with her parents. The new school year had just begun two weeks earlier and there was not a lot of homework to be done over this weekend. As she snuggled deeper under her blanket, her mind was filled with ideas about the presents she could expect tomorrow.
As much as she loved the school and the Order of the Phoenix, her sixth year at Hogwarts was not off to a great start. Harry was irritable all the time – understandable after he just lost Sirius, but still hard for her to deal with. Ron was even more grating for some reason. Over the last two weeks of summer that they all spent together at Grimmauld Place, she had thought that maybe, he finally would understand her feelings for him.
But suddenly, back at Hogwarts, his eyes were following every other pretty girl in their year. He barely even spoke to her. Not having Harry and Ron around her all the time also revealed another painful truth: She didn’t really have any other friends. Nobody sought her out, nobody wanted to spend time with her, if not to ask question about homework.
So, she had decided to at least try to get an exemption for her birthday to go back to the muggle word for a weekend. She turned seventeen, after all, marking her transition into adulthood in the eyes of magical society. And McGonagall, who probably noted her struggles, had acquiesced rather quickly.
Her parents had been happy in a way she didn’t even know they could be. While they had always been supportive and understanding, they were both very much like she herself: struggling with showing real warmth. But seeing their teary eyes reminded her of something she had almost forgotten ever since she first stepped foot into Hogwarts: These were her mum and dad, they loved her unconditionally, and they had to be separate from her for most of the year since she was eleven. It was the first time she understood how hard it was on them.
A very muted crack made her almost jump out of her skin. She had her wand in hand before she even realised that the sounded indicated someone apparating into her room.
“Careful, Hermione Granger. We wouldn’t want to wake your parents, now, would we?”
The fine hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. She had never heard this low hissing voice before, but she instinctively knew who it belonged to. In the darkness and silence of her childhood room, there stood Lord Voldemort, wand pointing at her, his eyes gleaming in the shallow light the waning moon cast through her curtains.
She couldn’t even scream. The only thought left in her brain was the fact that by selfishly insisting on leaving Hogwarts during the school year, she had put her parents at risk. Her parents that were blissfully unaware, sleeping just two doors down the hallway.
Voldemort silently cast a Lumos which dispelled the darkness around them, but made the horror of his apparition only worse. She had never seen him before and no description Harry came up with could ever do his monstruous form justice. Greyish skin that resembled marble covered a body that seemed too tall. His face was not only missing a nose, but also showed slits for pupils and gave him an altogether alien appearance. He was so far from human that Hermione wondered how anyone could follow him willingly.
“I am not here to hurt you, but I will if you try anything. Is that clear?”
A shiver ran down her spine. If he wasn’t here to kill her, whatever he wanted could only be worse. But with her parents so close, she had no choice. She forced herself to nod.
“Good. Draco tells me you’re smart.” He showed her a toothy grin that was just wrong. “I have a proposition for you. Call it a birthday gift.”
She shuffled to the far end of her bed, blanket clutched to her chest, wand still pointed at him. “You know it’s my birthday?”
To her horror, he sank down on the other end of her bed and leaned against the bed post leisurely. “I know a lot of things about you. That’s why I’m here.”
Hermione tried to take several deep breaths. It didn’t help her that her pulse was running away at a speed that made it hard for her to think. She needed to calm down and regain her wits if she wanted to survive whatever this was.
“Okay. Assuming for just one moment that I trust anything coming out of your mouth. What do you want, specifically?”
He leaned forward and held his wand closer to her, shining its light directly into her face. “We both know that we are on the brink of war. We both know that your parents are vulnerable – mere muggles with no means to protect themselves. I offer you a chance to protect them and ensure their survival.”
She let out a long breath and swallowed her disappointment. For a second, not even one heartbeat, she had actually started to believe that this visit would not result in her death and that of her parents. But that offer was so ridiculous, it was obvious now that he never intended to be truthful.
Still, she decided to play along while she tried to think of an exit strategy. “What do you want in return?”
He was no longer smiling. “Two things. Two gifts, really.” He pulled out a small bracelet that shimmered in the flickering light the Lumos cast. It was breathtaking in its fragility. “This is the lost bracelet of Rowena Ravenclaw. It holds more meaning than you could ever imagine. I want you to wear it at all times, even when you sleep. As long as you keep it safe, I will keep your parents safe.”
One of the four legendary heirlooms of the founders was right in front of her. Hermione had no doubt that this was the real thing. It looked ancient and beautiful and she could sense the low pulsing of magic even without touching it. But the longer she looked at it, the more she got the feeling that something was not quite right.
“Is it cursed?”
Voldemort shrugged. “In a manner of speaking.”
She waited for him to explain more, but he didn’t. He just stared at her, a weird expression in his eyes that made her feel like a mouse before a snake. She swallowed against the knot that formed in her throat. “And the second gift?”
“You take on the Dark Mark.”
She laughed before she even fully processed what he said. The Dark Lord sat on her bed, offered her a priceless gift, and then wanted to induce her into his merry band of Death Eaters. Surely, this was a dream. A nightmare. Because this reality made less than any sense.
She almost choked on her spit as she tried to suppress her laughter. Coughing and shaking, she tried to form words. “You want me … Hermione Granger … the mudblood … friend of Harry Potter, you want me to become a Death Eater?”
“Wearing the Dark Mark does not make you a Death Eater.”
She stilled. “It doesn’t? But I always thought …”
“It doesn’t.” She could hear him grow impatient. “I do not expect you to become a Death Eater. I expect you to take the Dark Mark and come to me whenever I call.”
“So, you expect me to spy on Harry and the Order?”
He narrowed his eyes. “No. I simply expect you to come when I call.”
Hermione suddenly realised that she was no longer holding her wand. Wary how easily she let her guard down, she closed her fingers around it again and met his hungry gaze head on. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t have to.”
“If I don’t understand, I won’t comply.”
He lowered his wand hand and instead grabbed her throat to pull her closer. “Look at it this way. I am giving you a chance to shape your own future, independent of Harry Potter and the Order. Is that not what you want? The chance to put your mind to solving a problem, unhindered by all the idiots that surround you? Adults that underestimate you because you’re a mudblood. Peers that think of you as nothing more than a walking encyclopaedia? A Chosen One who will always, always chose his best friend over you? They are all nothing compared to your potential.”
Goosebumps travelled over her skin as she listened to every word that left his mouth. She couldn’t deny that in her darkest moments, all those questions plagued her like festering venom, buried deep inside her brain. She didn’t know how he could know, but every single word hit her where it hurt.
She licked her lips, keenly aware how close their faces were. “You see me as nothing but a mudblood, too.”
“And yet here I am, offering you a chance to be more,” he hissed.
For a heartbeat, his hand squeezed tighter around her throat, but then he pushed her away and let go. She gasped for air, unable to make sense of anything he just said.
“It’s time to decide, witch. What will you do?”
***
When Hermione sat down for dinner that Sunday, she was almost trembling from all the nervous energy coursing through her veins. She had prepared several explanations for what that mysterious bracelet on her right arm was, but except for Ginny, who commented on how pretty it was, nobody took notice. Harry had dark lines under his eyes and didn’t talk at all, while Ron’s attention was focused on the shepherd’s pie in front of him.
Nobody asked how her birthday was. None of the lies she had prepared were even necessary.
She involuntarily scratched her left arm where the Dark Mark was hidden under a glamour spell. The branding had hurt like hell, but now, she only felt a faint itch.
***
The bracelet on her right wrist was always warm. As though it was alive.
For the first few nights, she worried that it might disturb her sleep. She never liked feeling restricted when she went to bed. But that worry never came true.
If anything, she slept better than ever.
Sometimes, she had vivid dreams that left her covered in sweat and uncomfortably hot, but she never remembered what they were about. All she knew was that the bracelet was definitely more than just an enchanted object.
The longer she wore it, the more she liked it.
***
Perhaps it was because Voldemort had spoken out loud what she only dared to think in the deepest recesses of her mind. Perhaps it was just the looming war.
Hermione was annoyed, a constant irritation that just never left. Harry was obsessed with his Potions book, Ron didn’t take it seriously, and Ginny was dating so many boys in an attempt to catch Harry’s eye that it was almost comical.
One day, during a Defence Against the Dark Arts class, Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. Harry still insisted that Expelliarmus was the best duelling spell, as though that would do anything when he had to fight real Death Eaters or Voldemort himself.
All her suppressed anger bubbled up at once and she sent a Stupefy at him so fast and so powerful, it knocked him several meters back. He didn’t regain consciousness for three days.
After instructing Ron and Seamus to take Harry to the hospital wing, Snape grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her aside.
“I should deduct a lot of house points for this unnecessary use of force, Miss Granger. Give me a good reason why I don’t.”
She looked him straight in the eye and shrugged. “Harry was being an idiot and needed to be taught a lesson. I don’t care if that makes me lose points.”
Snape frowned and leaned down to look her more directly in the face. For several long heartbeats, he studied her eyes as though he could read anything in them. Then, he drew in a surprised gasp and pushed her back against the wall.
“I know that look in your eyes,” he hissed quietly. The classroom was empty by now, yet still he seemed to concerned someone might overhear. “Tell me what’s going on with you right now, Granger.”
She merely blinked. “How do I look?”
His jaw worked silently for a moment. “Like someone who’s been in prolonged contact with the Dark Lord.”
She let out a humourless chuckle. “Fancy that. Severus Snape, master spy for the Order, corners Hermione Granger in his classroom and accuses her of cavorting with the enemy. Did you forget I’m nothing but a worthless mudblood?”
“Don’t test me, Granger,” he growled.
Hermione cocked her head and studied him. From all she knew, Snape also carried a Dark Mark and regularly followed the summons of Voldemort. Dumbledore said he was on their side, and he seemed concerned for her safety.
But he was still as annoying as the rest of them.
“Shouldn’t you worry about Harry instead? Harry, who miraculously gets perfect scores in Potions this year? Harry, who carries around an old text book with suspiciously perfect corrections to the instructions. Harry, who uses spells written down in a text book without knowing what they’re doing. Doesn’t that sound more like something you should concern yourself with? What if the Chosen One fell for a cursed book? Whatever would wizarding Britain do then?”
To her surprise, that actually did it. She had just enough time to see his eyes widen, then Snape let go of her and stormed out of the classroom.
She rolled her shoulders. Of course. Even Snape folded when someone merely hinted at the Chosen One being in danger. For all his hatred of Harry, he sure was concerned with his safety.
***
The first time her Dark Mark burned was in November. It was a Saturday and the whole school was busy watching the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Her absence would be noted, she knew that, but nobody would actually be suspicious that Hermione Granger missed Quidditch.
She made her way to Hogsmeade through the hidden passage Harry showed them years ago. She didn’t know where exactly she was going, but as she sneaked through Honeydukes, she felt an ever-increasing pull.
She ended up in the outskirts of the village, inside a decrepit two-storey building. Voldemort was waiting for her in front of a crackling fireplace, dressed in a fitted black three-piece suit that only enhanced how inhuman he was.
For the first time in weeks, her irritation subsided.
“Hermione Granger. You followed my call promptly. I appreciate that. Sit down.”
She sank into the plush armchair opposite him, wand ready in her sleeve.
“I hear you helped Severus regain one of his old books.”
For a moment, she was blindsided by the conversational tone of his voice, but then his words reached her brain. “What?”
Voldemort grinned. “That Potions book Potter was using. It was his. Curious that you didn’t figure that out on your own. The Half-Blood Prince? Should have been obvious.”
Now that she thought about it, she realised that she actually recognised the hand writing in it. She just never put it together, because it felt so outlandish. “Snape is a half-blood?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you didn’t know? His mother, Eileen Prince, married a muggle.”
She crinkled her nose. “And you still made him a Death Eater? Even though he’s not a pureblood?”
“Greatness should not be held back by something as insignificant as blood status.”
“Says the monster intent of eradicating every muggleborn witch and wizard.”
His grin widened. “See, that’s the blindness of youth, Hermione Granger. It’s the pureblood families who want to kill you. I have other plans. My methods just happen to align with theirs, so it suits me to adopt their hatred.”
Her mind was reeling. She still didn’t know whether she could trust a word that left his mouth, but there was something in his eyes, in the way he looked at her, something she couldn’t quite place. Something that told her that she didn’t see the full picture. Maybe he was actually being truthful right now.
Or he was just playing her because he knew he’d get her on his side when he showed himself sympathetic to muggleborns.
Whatever it was, she knew one thing for sure. Her restless anxiety, her annoyance at the world, at her friends, at herself, it calmed down in his presence. She felt more at ease than she had for weeks and it felt good.
***
The second time he called her happened on Ron’s birthday.
The whole day had been cursed, just a chain of events that told her, once and for all, that all her romantic interest in him was for naught. She had tried, really tried, to endure his fling with Lavender. Listened to Harry when he swore that it was just a phase, that Ron was just excited to be snogging, but that he would soon come to his senses.
It was very early in the morning, long before dawn, when she sneaked down into the Gryffindor common room to set up his birthday table with all the presents. She had really put a lot of thought into his gift this year. Despite being constantly annoyed with him, she still wanted to mend the rift that had formed between them. Perhaps he would even break up with Lavender.
She was on the last step of the staircase when low grunts made her freeze on the spot. Peering carefully around the corner, she got an all too clear view of a very naked Ronald pumping into an equally naked Lavender. From the looks of it, they were both very practiced in this.
Despite herself, she couldn’t move. She stood there, listening to their disgusting moans, unable to move a muscle. It took forever until their groans finally stopped.
Then, she heard the distinct giggle of Lavender. “You know, Won-Won, I was actually really worried at the start of the year.”
“Why?”
“Some of the girls said you prefer Hermione to me. And you’re always spending so much time together, I wondered whether that’s true.”
She could feel her blood run cold.
“No, don’t worry about that. Mione just has a crush on me. Had that for years now. If I was interested, I could have had her forever now. But I’m not. I mean, I have thought about shagging her before, but I think she’d be the clingy type, you know? Wouldn’t understand that it would just be a one time thing. I prefer you.”
“Oh, Won-Won, I love you!”
“I love you too!”
It had taken everything in her not to draw her wand and curse them both on the spot. Instead, she turned around and silently got back to her room. She didn’t prepare the presents, which got her into a fight with Harry. That led to her not having a partner in Potions, which made her almost fail to finish the assignment in time.
And then, out of nowhere, Ron suddenly was in love with Romilda Vane. She suspected a love potion, but if she was honest, she didn’t really care anymore.
While Harry brought him to Slughorn, she sneaked out of the castle and back to the village to meet with Voldemort.
The instant she was in his presence, she could feel her mood change. Suddenly, Ron’s words from the morning didn’t sting anymore and the fight with Harry seemed irrelevant.
She went to sit in the same armchair as before, but Voldemort stopped her. “No. You seem disturbed today, Hermione. Come here.”
She swallowed. She had let him brand her. She had allowed herself to trust his words. She had sat with him in comfortable silence in November. She wore his bracelet. But this? Sitting on his lap, letting him embrace her?
It would be a point of no return. She knew that in her bones.
“I will not harm you. I promise.”
She could feel the pull of his words. Something slithered over her skin, urging her to follow his words. Whispering in low tones that she would feel better if she allowed him to give her a hug.
She gave in. Slowly, carefully, she stepped in front of him. He reached up and closed his hands around her hips ever so lightly. She let out a shaky breath, then she sank down, straddling him with her knees pressed into the soft couch. His hands remained on her hips for a moment longer. Then, they travelled to her back and with the slightest pressure, he brought her to his chest.
When he finally embraced her fully, her beating heart calmed down. Her Dark Mark still itched, as it always did, but that anxious flittering, that scratching at the back of her mind quieted down.
“You feel like home,” she admitted in a low whisper.
“I know.”
He lifted her right arm and pressed a kiss against the bracelet.
“I know.”
***
He called her more often after that. With the school year rapidly coming to a close, she fell into a strange routine. Every two weeks, she would sneak out of the castle to meet Voldemort. He would pull her onto his lap, press a kiss onto the bracelet, and then just gently rub her back. After one short hour, he would send her back.
Nothing more ever happened.
But in the quiet darkness of her four-poster bed, Hermione caught herself thinking of him when she woke up sweaty and hot in the middle of the night.
***
“I didn’t intend to do this, but you have earned it. Another token to prove my honesty just for you, Hermione Granger.”
She didn’t know what to make of it. The school year was almost over and she had kept so many secrets. Both from her friends and from Voldemort. That she knew about his Horcruxes, for example. He spoke of honesty, but she herself was lying to him every time they met. Lying by omission.
“Draco Malfoy will lead Death Eaters into Hogwarts in two days.” He looked her in the eyes as he said that, hands gripping her waist as though he feared she might run away. “They are instructed to leave students and teachers alone. Their only goal is to kill Dumbledore.”
For the first time since these meetings started, his presence did nothing to calm her anxiety. On the contrary.
“You cannot expect me to keep quiet about this.”
His hands dug into her hips. “I do. The attack will not be a surprise to Dumbledore. Snape will have warned him beforehand. You will keep quiet.”
Her breath came in short puffs, aggravating the speeding rhythm of her pulse. “You know Snape is spying for us?”
Voldemort simply smiled. “He’s doing as he’s told.”
He moved his hands from her hips and closed them around her face instead. His snake-like eyes watched her intently, locking her gaze to his until she felt the usual calmness spread over her again.
Then he pulled her close and pressed his thin lips onto hers.
***
Dumbledore was dead. In the end, it was Snape who killed him.
Snape who did as he was told.
Hermione was back in her childhood home, in her bed, curled into a foetal position. She had trusted Voldemort and now Dumbledore was dead.
It didn’t matter. She knew the plan. She would not return to Hogwarts and instead go Horcrux hunting with Harry and Ron. She had the whole summer to prepare for this.
She could only hope that Voldemort kept his words. That he kept her parents safe. Or at least would leave them alone.
***
When she first touched the locket, she had to press her lips together to not let out a moan. It was warm, just like her bracelet, and just like it, there was a drum of magic to it.
Nothing they tried destroyed it.
They decided to keep it for now. To wear it hours at a time and switch it up regularly.
Because the locket made the wearer irate and unstable.
Except for the one night when she accidentally wore it the whole time and the only thing that happened was a dream so vivid she woke up with her fingers buried deep inside of her.
She was lucky that Harry and Ron were oblivious to anything she did.
After that, she explained to them that she didn’t feel as affected by it as they did. Ron huffed and puffed and accused her of being a show-off, but in the end, Harry was convinced and they let her carry it without interruption.
It felt good. Like it belonged there, nestled between her breasts.
***
She felt his call in the middle of the night. The Dark Mark burned more intensely than ever and she knew she couldn’t risk ignoring it.
She told Harry, who was keeping watch, that she needed to stretch her legs because she was too restless to sleep. He just nodded.
He never cared what she did.
It was freeing to be able to apparate right next to Voldemort. He was waiting for her in an abandoned house somewhere in muggle London. The second she landed, she glared at him.
“I shouldn’t have trusted you,” she spat. “If I had listened to my own instinct, Dumbledore wouldn’t be dead now.”
“He knew we were coming. What do you think you could have done? He chose not to warn the Order. He chose to wander out in search for a Horcrux, knowing it would weaken him. His choices let to his death. Not yours.”
She slumped forward, allowing him to embrace her. Dumbledore knew. Even though it seemed ridiculous, he knew. And he did nothing. If what Harry told her was true, he was not in the slightest bit surprised to see Malfoy on top of the Astronomy tower.
He knew and he let it happen.
“You’re carrying something that belongs to me, Hermione Granger.” His voice was so soft, so caring as he said that.
But it chilled her to the bone. She had brought a Horcrux to a meeting with Voldemort. Of course he would sense it. Instinctively, her hand went to the locket.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to take it from you.”
"Why?"
“Because you would have no way of explaining how you lost it. And I know you have no way of destroying it. So, it is safe with you.”
He carefully pried her fingers away from it. Then, he started to slowly open the buttons of her blouse. Hermione’s breath hitched. They had never gone this far. There had only ever been a single kiss between them. She watched in fascinated horror as he methodically slipped one button after the other through their little holes until her blouse was half way undone.
He stopped there. For a moment, his gaze lingered on her face, then his fingers pushed the fabric out of the way and slightly down her shoulders. Her cleavage and simple cotton bra lay exposed. His pupils were blown wide as he took in the sight of her and the locket, perfectly resting on the swell of her breasts.
“You are beautiful.”
He brought up her right arm and pressed a kiss against her bracelet. Then, still holding her wrist, he leaned down and breathed another kiss against the locket. Heat spread from her cheeks down her neck and her décolleté. She wanted him to touch her, to run his fingers over her exposed skin, to put his lips onto her.
Instead, he pulled her blouse together again and buttoned it up.
“Take good care of these pieces of my soul.”
***
He didn’t call her again after that. Weeks went by, then months. Ron left after an especially bad fight where he accused her of being in love with Harry. It was ridiculous and hurtful and made no sense, as he was still with Lavender.
That evening, Harry tried to kiss her. She saw it coming and put a stop to it before he could embarrass either of them. She thought of Ginny and all her hopes and love for the Chosen One.
Three days later, he tried again and this time, she didn’t see it coming. His lips were on her neck before she could react. He groaned and pushed his hips against hers and it took all her strength to push him off. She told him no in very clear terms this time.
Harry got angry. Told her that Ron already thought they were sleeping together, so they could as well do it. She pushed back and reminded him that Ginny was still waiting for him.
He only shrugged. Said that he just wanted to shag, not start a relationship. That it didn’t mean anything and of course he loved Ginny. That nobody needed to know. That he just needed to let out some steam.
She said no again and he accepted it.
But at night, when she lay on the little cot, shame and guilt burnt inside of her. If Ginny ever found out about this, she’d never forgive her. She would forgive Harry because she loved him, but she would never forgive Hermione Granger.
***
Ron returned. He was in a better mood and well fed. Explained about Potter Watch and what his family was doing. Harry was in high spirits again, even though they still didn’t know how to destroy the Horcrux. She still carried it around her neck and it was the only thing keeping her sane.
She didn’t tell them that she carried a second Horcrux.
It was her very own secret. Voldemort had entrusted her with a piece of his soul and she would keep that secret as long as possible.
With Ron back, Harry stopped talking to her. Ron noticed that and she could see in his grin that he was happy about it. He talked to her more than ever. Put his hands on her shoulders, on her back, on her thighs. Pulled her close whenever he could.
She endured it, too wary what would happen if she refused him outright.
***
Harry never listened. Of course, he was too stubborn to really understand what Ron had told them about Lord Voldemort’s name. He believed himself superior.
And of course, it was her on the ground getting tortured, not Ron or Harry.
She tried not to scream, but the Cruciatus curse from Bellatrix Lestrange proved too much. She could feel her grip on magic slip away and she knew she was in trouble.
Then, the mad witch pulled out a dagger and eyed her with a crazed look that spelled trouble. Desperately, Hermione tried to continue feeding the glamour hiding her Dark Mark, but it was all for naught.
The second the blade dug into her skin, the spell vanished and the Mark became visible.
“What … is this?”
Hermione would have loved to observe the utter confusion of Lestrange, but her body was not cooperating. Her head lolled to the side, her eyes almost blind from tears.
The last thing she heard were shocked screams, then her world went black.
***
When she regained consciousness, she was surrounded by darkness. Coughing and retching, she struggled to sit up. Wherever she was, it reminded her very much of a prison cell. Small and windowless and only furnished with a shabby bed. That’s when she noticed the chain around her ankle.
She called out hesitantly, her voice scratchy as though she hadn’t used it for days.
A moment later, the door opened and Harry and Charlie appeared.
“Why am I bound?” She demanded to know.
Harry kneeled down in front of her and shot her a dark glare. “You have the nerve to ask? You carry the Dark Mark. You hid a second Horcrux from us. Do you really think for a second you deserve any sympathy?”
Her mouth went dry. “I’ve only ever fought on your side, Harry. You know that. I’m a muggleborn witch.”
Charlie scoffed. “Yeah. And it’s never happened in history before that the most oppressed gave up their allies the easiest in the hopes of surviving. Stop the bullshit, Granger.”
The world seemed to tilt. She stared at Harry, hoping against hope to see any remainder of her best friend. But his eyes were hard, his mouth set in a grim line.
Tears shot into her eyes. “I want to see you win. I swear. I want to destroy the Horcruxes and then kill You-Know-Who. Harry, please. I swear that I am on your side.”
He sighed and shook his head. Without another word, the two wizards left the cell again and locked the door, trapping her without food, without water.
***
The Dark Mark burned. He was calling her but she had no way to get to him.
He would realise she wasn’t coming.
And then he would go to her parents and kill them.
Fresh tears welled up and she cried until she passed out.
***
The Mark burned again. Longer this time. More insistent.
Then it got quiet.
It burned again. She had no sense of time, but she was sure that it burned for several minutes. It hurt and there was nothing she could do.
It was just a reminder that she had lost everything in this world that she ever loved.
***
Screams woke her up.
“He’s here!” That was Ron, terrified and enraged.
Hermione tried to sit up, but her body didn’t comply. She could only lie there and listen to the battle outside. She could hear Charlie and Fleur give heated instructions. Then she heard Remus who was here as well for some reason. He sounded desperate, talking rapidly to Harry, urging him to flee.
But Harry insisted on staying his ground. Voldemort was here and he would not run away.
Her heart beat furiously as she listened on. She worried for Harry, despite everything. If he died, all was lost.
But she also worried for Voldemort. She couldn’t help herself. As much as she knew that he needed to be destroyed, she wished that he could get a chance at redemption.
Suddenly, she realised that the sounds from outside had subsided. Panic flooded her system. Who had won? Who was still alive?
In the next moment, the door to her little cell exploded and showered her in a hail of wood splinters. She curled into a tiny ball.
“Hermione Granger.”
That voice.
She blinked between her arms that she had defensively wrapped around her head.
He was here.
“Why are you here?”
He rushed to her side and pulled her to his chest. “You didn’t answer my call. I feared the worst but then I realised that I could still feel your Mark. So I came to where it led me.”
“You came for me,” she whispered incredulously.
“Of course.”
“You could have died coming here.”
He slowly stood up, cradling her in his arms as he did. When he stepped through the broken door, Hermione saw the full extent of the battle. Every Order member that was here lay on the ground, bleeding. Her eyes searched for Harry and Ron, still caring for them despite everything.
She found them at the other end of the room, bound, but alive and awake.
“You did this. For me.” She still couldn’t believe it.
“I would burn the world to the ground for you, Hermione Granger,” Voldemort growled.
Heat flared up deep within her.
The next second, he apparated them away.
***
She flitted in and out of consciousness. She saw house elves feeding her soup. Someone tending to her wounds – Snape?
Whenever she opened her eyes, someone was there. Helping her, calming her, soothing her pain.
She felt the familiarity of the slithering presence again. The bracelet was back on her wrist.
***
A few days later, she sat in her room alone for the first time. It was a nice room with a comfortable bed and a view from the window that was to die for.
She was also very sure that this was Malfoy Manor.
The door opened and Voldemort entered. His eyes lit up when he saw her awake. She noted that he closed and magically sealed the door behind him before he came to her bed.
He didn’t say anything. He simply looked at her for a long moment. Then he leaned forward and pulled her into a kiss. She relaxed into it, melting under the feeling of his bracelet connecting them.
He peeled back the blanket and climbed over her, never interrupting the kiss. His hands explored her, caressed her, worshipped her. When he finally slipped his long, cold fingers into her, she was more than ready for him. She opened herself up, sighing with each stroke.
He disappeared their clothes without using his wand. Hermione blushed, but then she realised that she didn’t mind this at all. The adoration in his eyes made all her insecurities disappear.
He didn’t ask before he pushed into her. It hurt and it overwhelmed her, but it just felt right. She was wet, allowing him to slide in more easily. When he was buried to the hilt, he gave her a moment to adjust to him.
Then he started to move and all her worries went away. The stretch and the glide and the heat, it all was perfect. Their groans mingled, as did their fingers.
“I will fill you up, Hermione Granger,” he growled into her ear. “Every night, I will fill you up until you carry my child. And even after that, I will take you again and again.”
She sobbed at his words and nodded, unable to utter a single word. It was all she wanted. All she dreamed about ever since he first put that bracelet with his soul inside on her.
“I will destroy the Order and build a new world, just for us. Together, we will rule over wizards and muggles alike. We will conquer the world and through our children, we will be immortal.”
He picked up the pace, his thrusts becoming frantic, while he continued to whisper his plans into her ears. She took it all in, clung to him, gave herself to him.
Whatever he wanted, she would do. This man was ready to burn the world for her.
And so, she was ready to see it burn.