Hermione had been covered in her own blood numerous of times. Injury after all was one of deaths distant cousins. She had been sliced open many a time in the battlefield. It was some sort of sick inside joke among the death eaters to hurl cutting hexes instead of the typical stunner at muggleborns. A little show they liked to put on for their own twisted amusement. Watching the filthy blood that is sacrilege to their society spill onto the dirty floor. It was symbolic of everything they believe.
Never had Hermione experienced the humiliation of having a bigot, in this case their leader, who despised her very existence, smear her own blood across her face. She always prided herself in being a muggleborn. Not even the prejudiced Slytherins with their relentless bullying made her feel disgraced about her parentage. Voldemort's simple act was symbolic in its own right. It hurt far more than any torture ever will.
Snape's bowed figure was blurred as tears welled in her eyes, but she never let them fall. She would never give any of them the satisfaction of breaking Hermione Grangers spirit like that.
Hermione blinked back her tears and used her skills in Legilimency to mentally reach out to her professor.
Snape's leanings were always a massive debate among Order members. Especially between Harry and herself. The majority consensus was that the potions master was an untrustworthy coward, running to Dumbledore for protection after his master first perished. That distrust was only cemented after Voldemort's resurrection.
Hermione being the logical person she was decided to give him the benefit of doubt after ruminating on his actions in the past. She also reasoned if Dumbledore trusted him than that was good enough.
Her good faith was crushed when her attempt was met with an aggressive mental push from the professor, amounting to a literal fuck off.
Red hot fury coursed through her.
"Traitor!" she shouted at him, twisting in the arms of her captor.
His refusal to meet her gaze even after the outburst sent another wave of rage flowing. So powerful was Hermione's anger, clumps of her hair began to rise and crackle with static.
She landed in a heap after being unexpectedly released. Her unadulterated fury spiked to a point whereby random objects shattered into microscopic fragments.
Had it been any other wizard witnessing such a magnificent display of raw power, they would have slowly backed away in terror, but Voldemort wasn't just anybody.
When Hermione turned her face to disdainfully regard him, she wasn't met with wrath or punishment. Instead there was an impression of approval. A glinting sheen of greed glazed his eyes.
Voldemort took a step toward her, reaching out to offer an upturned hand without bending down.
"Join my ranks Hermione."
It wasn't a request, despite his polite tone, it was a demand.
When Hermione joined the Order, she was well aware of the magnitude of her decision. A dozen scenarios flitted through her mind of all the dreadful things that could befall her, but never in a million years would she have even imagined these words uttered from Voldemort himself.
She ignored his hand with a sniff of derision identical to that of Draco Malfoy and stood up "Why? I was under the impression that my kind was beneath you and your zealots."
Voldemort remained calculatingly impassive "Oh but you are my dear."
He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze "But sometimes one must learn to adapt in order piece together the big picture."
Hermione didn't move her face. Her defiant gaze hardened as it bore into his.
"If you think for a second that I will abandon my cause merely because you think I'm just a little less unworthy compared to others like me then you are sorely mistaken."
His azure orbs flickered with a dangerous flash.
"Is that a challenge Hermione?" he smirked.
Hermione frowned in exasperation, hardly believing that she is having this conversation with Voldemort of all people. Everything about him was so unlike anything Harry or Dumbledore told her. In her mind, Lord Voldemort was a snake like monstrosity driven mad by splitting his soul in too many pieces. He was irrational and psychopathic, so distinct from the person that stood there before her. He seemed so human. She couldn't decide which was more terrifying. The monster she knew him to be or the superficially normal man that he tries to portray.
"What are you playing at?" she asked in genuine confusion.
"I don't play games Hermione." he replied stiffly.
"Then why all of this?" she looked at him accusingly "Why put up this charade?"
He sincerely seemed to consider this for a moment, his eyes wandering to the smear of blood on her face.
"Because Hermione," his lips curled with derision "I am not one to make the same mistake twice."
Hermione's inhaled deeply, her eyes narrowing when his cryptic statement hit home. The topic of Harry Potter never failed to ruffle her feathers when it came out the mouths of his enemies.
"You can sweet talk me all you want Voldemort. I would rather die by your hand than even consider taking it."
His smirk sent a shudder through her. It had a victorious edge as if she played right into his hand. "Severus, take Draco to the dungeons. I am sure Miss Weasley would appreciate familiar faces escorting her towards a tragic fate."
Voldemort's malicious stare made her want to throw up
"Leave Ginny out of this." she yelled
"Why should I Hermione?" his voice was chilled as it rose a notch.
"Because your displeasure is with me." her voice cracked. She hated herself for it.
A storm brewed behind his visage; its viciousness etched across his face. He eliminated the space between them, and Hermione unconsciously readied herself for a surge of unimaginable pain. She flinched when he lifted his arm but instead of a curse, he tugged on a frizzy curl.
"You only have yourself to blame Miss Granger. You should have thought about the consequences carefully before you dared to turn me away."
Their stare down was interrupted by four people entering the room. The temperature seemed to drop as they walked in, a petrified Ginny hanging on Snape's arm trembling. Tears flowed like rivers down her face as she struggled to unhinge her arm from his grasp.
"I see you have invited Antonin to our little gathering. You always were the most proactive agent in my ranks Severus. I am pleased"
Voldemort turned his head to face Hermione once again "Have you ever had the pleasure of Dolohov's acquaintance Hermione? He is most proficient with a rather painful unforgivable."
His voice was casual, as if he made a remark on the weather rather than inhumane torture. Hermione on the other hand regarded their new arrivals with disgusted contempt. Malfoy stared blankly ahead, almost as if he was asleep on his feet. The blood trails on his face thanks to Hermione's fit of rage was dried and crusted. She couldn't help but note how it ironically mimicked her own crimson defacement.
Snape on the other hand abruptly let go of Ginny's arm when her scornful stare jumped to him. His face was a blank canvas as she fell onto the floor shaking violently, sobbing pitifully into the carpet.
Her cries seemed to echo throughout the room to the beat of Hermione's pounding heart. In an adrenaline-fueled impulse she leaped toward her friend, shouting out her name in despairing earnestness. She barely made it an inch when a pale hand caught her hair in a death grip.
Hermione yelped as she was forcefully dragged back. Her hands automatically reached for the offending appendage in a failed attempt to free herself.
Voldemort tightened his grip and her face contorted with discomfort as he forced her line of vision to meet Ginny. Her eyes began to water, as no amount of struggle allowed her relief. She begrudgingly allowed herself to move per his will and stood there like a statue against him.
With the briefest of nods from his master, Dolohov lashed at Ginny, crucioing her within an inch of her life.
Cries of anguish pierced through the air. So deafening was Ginny Weasley's screams, Draco snapped out of his reverie. He seemed to have paled even more, something Hermione thought impossible, and rapidly averted his gaze to anything else besides the squirming girl.
Hermione began to struggle once again, pleading with their tormenter to stop.
He regarded her with a scowl "See what happens when one dares to defy the will of Lord Voldemort."
Ginny was spluttering blood, staining the beige carpet when he pulled Hermione closer.
"This is all your doing," his voice thick with eerie calm as he spoke into her ear, not taking his eyes of the disturbing display of suffering "You could make it all stop if you like. Join me Hermione. With you by my side there is nothing that could stand in my way."
She wasn't sure what reaction he was trying to compel from her but as far as she was concerned, it will never be assent.
"I'd rather die." she spat disparagingly.
He released her and lifted his arm in a silent command at Dolohov to cease fire.
"Have it your way then" he said coolly, stepping in front of her.
They stood shoulder to shoulder. In an instant he flourished his wand and pointed it toward the weeping adolescent.
"You may disregard your own life, but I am positive Miss Weasley cares immensely whether she lives or dies."
His stifling blue orbs never left her
"The ball is in your court as you muggles like to say."
A small part of Hermione, the one hardened and stripped bare of that innocent selfless girl she once was, the one that steadfastly held on to Dumbledore's philosophy of sacrifice for the greater good because she knew, and she saw firsthand the horrors of their reality. That traitorous voice of common sense nearly allowed Ginny to be killed.
It wasn't a consideration of selfishness but one of logic. Hermione knew despite her passion for the light, Ginny wasn't much of an asset to the Order as she was. She also was very aware of the consequences that came with deflecting to the dark. Hermione wasn't just a mere soldier that fought bravely, she was the treasure trove of crucial intel.
She gave a damn who lived or died between the two of them, her priority was what's best for the Order.
Hermione's eyes drifted from Ginny's battered form towards the Dark Lord. She opened her mouth to boldly refuse him once again when her ally's voice stopped her.
"Don't do it M'ione" she spluttered weakly, blood pouring freely from between her lips.
It took Hermione all her will power to not burst into tears.
Ginny Weasley might not be as smart or useful, but she was brave. Most importantly she was good to a fault. Just like her Harry.
Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley. So much alike in their righteousness.
Hermione shakily ran her hand through her hair as raw sickening guilt gnawed at her insides.
How could she forget Harry?
What about his happiness. The way he smiles when Ginny is in his arms. That feeling of love and belonging and safety when he is with her. Didn't all the sacrifices in name of the greater good destroy his life so many times already?
Hermione did many things in her life that robbed her innocence but to cost her best friend his everything would not be one of them.
She turned herself to face Voldemort fully with grim determination.
"I will do it." she whispered in defeat.
A smile of satisfaction graced his face, but this time Hermione was too numb with exhaustion to be furious with herself.
"You will do what Hermione?" he asked for the sole purpose of adding insult to injury.
"What ever you want." she murmured, offering her upturned palm toward him.