It was damp, foul smelling and definitely slimy. Hermione tenderly slid her hand down the cold dirt floor, trying to push herself up into a sitting position. But she was so weak, and her muscles didn't seem to want to work. With a shallow sigh, she turned her head letting her cheek rest upon the dirt, care for any exposure to unwanted germs long gone. Slowly she turned her arm over, and stared with a mix of curiosity and shame at the dark mark that now adorned her slender wrist.

Hermione had literally shed sweat, blood and tears to earn that mark. Earn, she almost wanted to vomit at the word, but earn she had and in ways she had not wished to. But she knew that physically the worst was over, and that what she was to face in the future would kill her emotionally. She had no illusions that anyone would understand the careful thought she had put into her plan, or the sacrifices that she had made. She knew that if she returned to Hogwarts she was to be an outcast, and that her only reliable help would come from her once worst enemy.

But with the death of Dumbledore, she knew that they were not strong enough to destroy Voldermort and his followers. Even the Order with such powerful wizards and witches making up its ranks, would not be enough to pull their side to victory. Hermione had begun her fateful line of thinking over the summer as she watched her world begin to collapse around her. She knew that Harry and Ron would not even hear her out, and that her plans and decisions had been made in the dark of the night and in the solitude of her own company.

With Hermione becoming a Death Eater she would gain unfettered access into the world of the dark arts, and with a mind as sharp as hers, she knew that it wouldn't take long for her to understand this hidden side of magic. And then she would emerge, reborn in the ashes of death and destruction, holding knowledge that none of her fellow compatriots would consider, but that would give them the power they needed to finish the war and rid the world of Voldermort and his followers. What she had naively not considered in the dark and twisted corridors of her mind, was the pain and suffering that she would have to endure in order to be accepted as a Death Eater. That had become painfully obvious when the last person in the world she thought would take an interest, began to give her a healthy dose of reality.

"Shite," Hermione moaned as she rolled over onto her back. She had a sinking feeling that several bones were broken and her body would soon be quite an array of black and blues. If she had her wand, she would try and repair what she could, but that was gone and gone for good. Silent anger had bubbled to the surface, temporarily pushing out the fear as she had watched Draco snap her wand in half. At first anger had fueled her as she watched his smug smile, but fear at a possible betrayal had quickly replaced the anger. She and Draco had discussed many different possible scenarios and outcomes with Hermione trying to be initiated as a Death Eater, but all the discussion in the world could not have prepared her for what she had gone through. And there was always a lingering thought through all of her planning that Draco would ultimately betray her.

But as she laid there, her body slowly was going numb from the pain and the cold seeping up through the floor she knew that something at least had gone according to plan. She raised her arm as best she could to have another look at the dark mark, and a cold smile began to play upon her lips. If they were going to out rightly reject her or destroy her they would not have taken the time to have given her the mark. So the ugly, revolting thing on her arm was a sign of victory, and as she let the waves of pain wash over her, she fell asleep contented that the first part of her plan was complete. But even in sleep her mind couldn't let go of the agony and details still left unfinished…

"Mudblood, you are as stupid as I suspected you were." Draco whispered into Hermione's ear. He had been mildly intrigued when she had first asked him for such a clandestine meeting, but after she had finished speaking he was outraged. "Do you really believe that the Death Eaters are going to welcome you with open arms?" he hissed. Draco had grabbed Hermione in anger and pinned her against the wall, his hands tightly gripping her wrists.

"Get off of me, you prat!" Hermione yelled, ignoring his question. She struggled against his iron grip, but couldn't free her wrists. In one smooth movement, she brought her knee straight up into his stomach. The well aimed blow did the trick, as a startled and pain racked Draco let go and stumbled backwards. Hermione ripped out her wand from the depths of her school robe and pointed it steadily at Draco. But even in pain Draco was not a fool, as he too began to reach for his wand. But this time Hermione was quicker and in anger both at herself and at Draco yelled, "Expelliarmus!" The fury of her emotions lent an energy to the spell she did not expect and both Draco's wand and his body went flying backwards landing with a hard thud against the stone floor.

For a split second Hermione froze, fear at seeing what she had just done, and knowing that she was beginning to tread a path no longer just imagined in her mind, but a dangerous one in reality with its own set of consequences. The conflict of emotions raged within her, as part wanted to finish off the arrogant son of a bitch, and the other said that needless killing was wrong. Unable to let her mind come to any conclusion, Hermione turned and ran out of the classroom, fleeing the scene of her first true step towards becoming a Death Eater. She ran for a long time, working out the energy of uncertainty until she finally made it back to the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitory. But as she stopped in front of the sleeping image of the Fat Lady, Hermione could not bring herself to call out the password. Instead she backed up into the shadows until she could feel the cold, smooth stone behind her, and slowly slid down and sat there with silent tears caressing down her cheeks.

The door to the small cell groaned as someone pushed the iron door open. Hermione slowly opened her eyes to a blur of light and shadow as it bent over her and roughly picked her up. She tried to clear her eyes and mind to be able to trace where she was going, but she only floated in and out of alertness. Then she felt her body being supported by something strangely smooth and soft, an immediate warmth beginning to fill her body. She tried to push herself up to look around her new surroundings, but a hand roughly pushed her back down. "No, just sleep." Hermione knew that voice, and with it knew where she had to be. Her body relaxed instantly at the knowledge, but her mind wasn't as easily convinced.

Draco looked down at the young woman, her long golden brown hair steaming out around her, framing her battered and bruised body. He took out his wand, and stood there for a few minutes starting down at his once loathed enemy. And then with swift and deliberate movements he got to work.