I have joined the ranks of Dark!Hermione writers *grins*. Yay!

Disclaimer - None of the following characters are mine (do you honestly think that if they were I'd still be living with my parenst?) and I'm not making any money from this.
Proving yourself.
Yawning from both exhaustion and boredom Hermione Granger languidly stirred the tomato soup that had been clotting for the past half an hour. Although several attempts had been made to draw Hermione into the conversation Hermione carried on stirring the soup that was still 'cooling down'.

Listening to the casual banter of the other seventh years Hermione sighed. Ever since the end of her sixth year she had been edging away from her friends. Her friends who gave her those strange looks if she did anything out of the ordinary. It seemed that as Hermione drifted away from the other's the more she disliked them. There was Harry who liked to pretend he hated being The-Boy-Who-Lived but in reality enjoyed the attention. There was Ron who was so obssessed about his lack of money that it really was no wonder that Malfoy taunted him about it when the flame-headed boy brought it up at every opurtunity. And then there was everyone else. The Gryffindor sheep. Hermione had often wondered if she would be expelled if she charmed the Gryffindor flags to show a sheep rather than a lion.

No one ever did anything for themselves. No original thought ever came from the dull troop of Harry Potter worshippers. No body even dared to do anthing that wasn't yet predetermined. If the great Harry Potter didn't do it, then no one else would. It was rather like a domino effect when Harry decided to do something new. Hermione was rudely interrupted from her musings.

"Herm, y'know that Charms essay? Well could you um... help me with it?" Translated from Ron-talk to the language that Hermione used, that meant that Ron either wanted to feel Hermione up in the library or he wanted Hermione to do his homework while he felt up another girl in the library.

"Do I have a sticker on my forhead labelling me as Ron Weasley's private whore? Or the brain that you are most blatantly lacking? Well?" Colour rushed to Ron's freckled cheeks. Hermione carried on with her unyielding tirade of truth that struck too close to home for comfort, for several minutes. When she realised she had the full attention of both professors and students alike Hermione shook her head and stood up.

Leaving a crushed Ron and many shocked pupils and one extremely startled professor Hermione left the Great Hall and hurried to the Gryffindor Tower. Two paintings before the portrait of the Fat Lady Hermione stopped and turned to face the intricately designed tapestry. It depicted the four founders. Godric smiled his unwavering smile, Helga beamed and dimples popped up everywhere, Rowena laughed gaily her tiny eyes twinking, Salazar regarded Hermione with an aloof glance.

Speaking the password quietly Hermione entered her rooms. Due to her being elected Head Girl she had her own set of rooms thankfully. No longer did she have to listne to the prattling and giggling of immature little girls. Hermione passed through the main room, which served as both living space and a study, into her bedroom. Stopping in midstride Hermione turned on her heel and retraced her steps back to the laden book shelves.

Tapping the spined lightly as she skimmed over the titles Hermione spotted the book she wanted and returned to her bedroom. The brunette sat on the edge of the king sized bed and reached down between her legs to the gap between the bed and the richly carpeted floor. Drawing out her satchel Hermione sat it down next to her and brought out a brightly coloured notebook with the word 'Charms' scrawled vividly across it. Taking a quill, a pot of ink and several rolls of parchment from a side pocket Hermione returned the bag and turned so that her back was against the headboard and shuffled along until she was in the middle.

Balancing the pot of ink precariously on a frilly pillow and rested the parchment on her notebook. For twenty minutes or so Hermione scribbled down the first draft only stopping to refer to her notebook. Hermione was so engrossed in her work that she didn't spot the velvety grey owl until it began to hoot with impatience. Hermione twitced and almost upset the little pot of ink.

Jumping to her feet and carefully setting the papers onto her bed Hermione strode over to the windowsill where the owl was perched and releived the owl of it's burden. Before sitting back on the bed Hermione dug out a few owl treats from the top drawer of her bedside table and gave them to the owl along with a little pat. Though she did not notice it sisn't move at all.

The envelope was made of a rich grainy paper. The hue of it shifted in the light. Flickering from one colour to another hermione was almost loath to open it. The paper the letter was written on was a let down after such a beutiful envelope.

Jotted down on slimsy white paper were the words,
Miss H. Granger,
It would be most benficial, to both you and I, if you attended an engagment attended by my assosciates and myself. I expect to see you at Malfoy Manor on the twelfth of this month at precisely 7:00 p.m. It would be most displeasing if you failed to show up. I look forward to seeing you at the aforesaid time and location.

Lord Voldemort.
Hermione stared in shock at the letter. She, Hermione Granger, had been invited to a Death Eater meeting. Her mind drifted back to her train of thoughts she had been thinking along at the dinner table. Should she go? Just to do something out of the ordinary. Should she do this as a kick in the teeth to her peers?

No, if she did go, it wouldn't just to be different. It would be because she wanted to prove herself. Memories of being called 'Harry Potter's friends' flooded Hermione's head. Time and again had she yearned to be known for herself. No for her knowledge or for the people she was friends with, but to be known as Hermione Granger. Not Granger the know-it-all, just Hermione.

Maybe if she did go she could show that she was worth something too. How many times had she been called a Mud-Blood? And how many times had she wanted to show everyone that she was better than them. Even before Hermione had known she was a witch people would assume she was a nobody.

Maybe, just maybe, this was her chance to prove herself. To show all those doubters that she was better than them. Moving quickly, so that she didn't have the time to change her mind, Hermione scooped up a scrap of parchment and a quill. Placing them on the table Hermione scribbled a hasty reply.

Mr T. Riddle,
It is a pleasure to be invited. I shall see you at the set time and location.

Miss H. Granger.
Perfect. Short and straight to the point. And Hermione refused to 'Lord' anyone she didn't yet know. Looking around the room for the bird, hoping it hadn't already left, Hermione spotted it and fastened the letter to it's leg. She jerked her head towards the window and watched as the grey speck of moving feathers melted into the dusky light.

As though she had done something much bigger than write a reply to a letter Hermione collapsed onto her bed and shoved off the remaining parchment, notebook and book. Heavy lids dragged down and quickly Hermione was sleeping deeply
*******
There ya go! What do you think? What? Sorry, I can't hear you! Speak louder! Nope, I just can't hear you *sigh*. You'l just have to press the purple button and leave a review!!!!!

Review and I'll write more!

TTFN

Ky,