Well, I've always thought about the idea of writing my own Dramione but I never thought I'd actually do it.
But here it is and I'm giving it to you, in hopes that you like it.
Chapter One
Lord Voldemort reclined on his throne in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, his lip curling in amusement at the girl in front of him. The brunette struggled against Crabbe and Nott, flanking her sides and restraining her forcefully.
"Mudblood Granger, how wonderful to see you again." he drawled, his sneer menacingly crude.
Trying to emulate his tone, Hermione enunciated clearly. "Likewise."
The slit-like eyes trained on her bemusedly. "How may I be of service?"
As always, Lord Voldemort hid behind his pretense of nobility and gentleman-like charisma.
Hermione stared confidently. "I'd like to join."
Laughter erupted like a rabbit from a fox but she had expected it.
Chuckling and silencing the other Death Eaters, Voldemort flicked a finger, as if absentmindedly, and Crabbe and Nott let go of her arms. Massaging the sore muscles in her arms from being forced into a position that was highly uncomfortable, Hermione stared at him back, unflinchingly.
"Join? Your side must be more foolish than I had ever imagined."
"They're not my side anymore," she spat bitterly.
"Do I detect a lovers spat? I daresay you were close to that Weasley."
Snickers and titters echoed throughout the hall and Hermione noticed warily that the ceiling was no longer portraying brilliant weather; rather it was grey and depressing. "There's noting going on." She didn't really feel the need to tell him that.
"Oh? Then what caused this change in heart?" His false concern was as transparent as some of the Hogwarts girl's blouses in the rain.
Hermione took her time answering and opted instead to glance around the room. Seven figures, excluding the two at her sides, stood proudly and ramrod straight, their faces hidden by the hideous masks that were the symbol of their organisation. The only faceless figure she could put a name to was the younger Malfoy, his blonde hair a dead giveaway.
"Difference of opinions."
The answer was short but it seemed to satisfy the leader. Standing from his throne in the middle of the hall, he sauntered slowly towards her. She tried her hardest not to flinch as he stopped, mere centimetres in front of her. "You know of the conditions." His voice was colder, smoother and precise.
A woman's voice then broke out. "No! My Lord, a Mudblood is unworthy of such an honour!"
Bellatrix; she should have known.
Malfoy, having not made any noise or sign of life until then, mumbled quietly. "Her knowledge and skill may be useful."
Ignoring the fact that Malfoy had indeed just paid her a compliment, she turned back to the wand twirling Dark lord before her. Not allowing her fear to show itself, she eyed his hands.
"The Mark will tie you to my cause, my beliefs and my control."
Not waiting for affirmation, he sent waves and waves of scorching pain through her body, branding her, Marking her.
"Granger, what are you doing here?" his voice was weary, tired as if he didn't particularly care for her answer. The veritaserum was taking effect as she responded.
"I told you. I've left them."
She heard one mutter angrily to another. "I wasn't aware that one of the side effects of the truth serum was attitude."
Malfoy barked a laugh directed at her. "Haven't you heard? Our little Mudblood Traitor's middle name is bloody attitude." He turned back to her. "Why?"
"I told you. Difference of opinions."
A snicker followed, quietened by a glare from the head of the Malfoy family and fortune.
"What opinions?"
"His opinions on the war."
"Such as?"
"That Muggles don't deserve our help."
If Malfoy hadn't seen her lips move, he wouldn't have believed that Hermione Granger had just uttered those words, in that order. "W-what?"
With a roll of her eyes, she sighed loudly. "Oh come on, surely you've picked up a newspaper in the last few weeks. They're labelling Harry as a lunatic who ought to be shipped off to a psychiatric hospital."
Malfoy gulped nervously, his brows furrowed in intense confusion. "So you don't think they deserve your help?" With a nod from her, he continued. "So you want to join us and teach them a lesson?" he spoke slowly as if he were talking to a brick wall.
Hermione help up her forearm. "I believe I've already joined, Malfoy."
The Dark Mark was ugly and out of place on her smooth skin and he thought it such a waste to blemish the perfection. It had spread like the bubonic plague that Granger hadn't as much as flinched or shuddered when branded even when it had been known to bring full grown men to their knees. Her sheer lack of pain was revered slightly and the rumour was that she had stared Lord Voldemort straight in the eye as he marked her.
"Are you a spy for The Order of the Phoenix?"
"No." She glanced at him quickly and darted her eyes back to Goyle and Parkinson who were whispering in the corner, looking at her between intervals.
"Do you wish to betray to Dark side?"
This time she looked him straight in the eye. "No."
After several days of vigorous testing, it was made clear that Hermione Granger was not a spy, an illegal animagus, under the Imperius, taking Polyjuice Potion to alter her appearance or anything else that would prove her change of heart false.
This revelation caused uproar in the higher echelons of Death Eaters.
"She's a Mudblood! It's unacceptable!" Lestrange roared at anyone who would listen. Fortunately for Bellatrix, there were many who shared her opinion. Dolohov, who has injured Hermione all those years ago in the Department of Mysteries, nodded energetically.
"She deserves to die, along with all the other Mudblood's."
"What does our Lord think he will accomplish by acquiring her?"
"Perhaps a way into Potter's heart?"
"Or Potter's trap."
Their respective Marks burned and the subject was quickly dropped as their master summoned them.
"Wormtail, fetch the girl."
Stuttering an affirmative response, the short man left the room. A short and awkward moment of silence between Lord Voldemort and his servants passed until Wormtail returned. Hermione was allowed the luxury of being unchained and unbound and she strolled quickly into the room, behind the quivering Wormtail.
"Miss. Granger." Lord Voldemort smirked. "I'm pleased at your results from our tests." The way he said 'tests' made it seem like an examination in itself.
How was she supposed to respond to that? Would a 'me too' sound too pathetic and quivering? Instead she opted for a quick nod.
"I'm assuming that where you have been staying has been quite," he sneered. "Unaccommodating."
Thanks to you, she thought bitterly in her head. "Luxuries mean nothing to me."
"Very well but since you have proved yourself loyal, a change is in order. You will take up residence in Malfoy Manor."
The sun upended itself and the world fell apart.
"What?"
"Do I sense a problem?"
She knew better than to push the Lord but she couldn't help blurting, "But he hates me!"
"I assure you, Miss. Granger, that there are no ill harboured feelings towards you from anyone within this room."
It was a good thing Bellatrix wasn't there then.
With a silent wave of his hand, Malfoy stepped forward upon the command, gripped her elbow and apparated them to Malfoy Manor.
Stumbling into the grand entrance, the staircase looming over her impressively and the hall lit with a great chandelier, Malfoy half pulled, half led her up the staircase.
The second door on the right was open but he quickly pulled her further along. Reaching the fifth door, he pushed her in.
"Is this your room?"
Stupid, stupid, stupid, she chastised herself. Of all the possible things she could have said, this was what her mind came up with?
"Yes." His answer was curt, short and extremely conversation slaughtering.
The room was large, far bigger than her own room by at least three or four times, equipped with a bathroom, a handy walk-in closet and rows and rows of books, squashed together, lining the walls.
Pushing her into a great armchair, he sighed. "Alright Granger, you are playing a damn stupid game. Potter has really gone insane hasn't he?"
And she just laughed.