The reality of the acrid air and cold, hard floor beneath her brought Hermione out of her reverie. She was still in the same room, alone with Voldemort. She wanted to curl up into herself, but braced herself instead.
Voldemort stood from his chair, imposingly pacing, slowly circling her.
"So, Mrs. Snape, are you prepared to join your beloved husband as a Death Eater in the fight against The-Boy-Who-Lived, or shall I unburden him?" he raised his wand.
Hermione wanted to scream, "Never!" but managed to keep her lips sealed. She knew her thoughts were enough under his unwavering glare.