Hermione had to be quick; her hands shook as she dug through the debris of Olivanders, desperately. She needed a wand, and she needed one now. This area was crawling with Snatchers and Death Eaters, and if it weren't for her appearance singling her out as their enemy and target, the scar on her arm most definitely would.
"Decree number one hundred and thirty five: Muggle borns, Blood traitors, and members of the Order that have yet to publicly pledge themselves to their Lord and Master, Voldemort, and accept whatever punishment (most often death or slavery) he deems fit, are to be hunted down and exterminated like the vermin they are".
That was one of the many decrees Voldemort had instated upon his rise to power, and Hermione doubted it would ever be revoked. Thus the severity of her current situation could not be over looked.
The Order was spread to the furthest corners of the earth, all hiding, captured, missing, or dead. There were some she had simply stopped hearing from, like Ginny and Luna. They had disappeared along with Seamus and Cho. Dean had been captured and executed publicly, along with many who refused to bow, but still all their deaths had been somewhat dignified. When he captured Ron, that's when it all changed. Ron, her Ron, her funny, loving, easily angered, overly-protective, and brave Ron had been tortured publicly by Voldemort's most trusted adviser, Bellatrix Lestrange until he loss all control of his bodily functions and passed out. The process repeated itself every time he even so much as opened his beautiful blue eyes. They didn't kill him like everyone else, there was no green flash of light as the killing curse fell upon his warm flesh, no, they killed him by Cruciatus, and it was all to simply make an example of Harry Potters best friend. Each time the word fell from the horrid witches cackling vocal cords a tear escaped Hermione's eyes. She could still hear it, still see it, the way his breathing suddenly would become interrupted by scream after scream, and the shrill chortle of that insane woman. The way his body would jerk and collapse, until finally all anyone could hear for miles was the gurgling of blood falling form his mouth as the pain caused him to bite through his own tongue and drown. It had been stupid to attend, and Hermione had only done so to try and think of a way to save him, to at least try… but it was all in vain. As he laid there, the pool of red water flowing from his mouth, the mouth he had kissed her with and said such lovely things so often, all she could see was his eye's staring directly at her. All she could see was the fight to live on even after the light had died, and at that moment she had decided to do just that. Live on, and fight. With, or without Ron, Ginny, Harry, Luna, or any of them. She would survive to see Voldemort's fall, even if she had to deal the final blow.