It was late afternoon when Hermione awoke from her morning tea rendezvous. The window light shone bright through the curtains revealing the space beside her. The brass clock read half past one and the rumble in her stomach proved the time was indeed correct. Turning her head she smiled as she saw the tray of food that Meeley so graciously left for her. Hermione thought it had seemed like ages since she had spoken to her friend. Her absence was due to Voldemort being around more often though her presence was still around which gave comfort to Hermione. She decided at some point she would ask for a hair trim to entice the house-elf for some overdue company.

After devouring the warm stew, she showered for the second time that day and dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and her oversized jumper. Reaching for a book that was left next to the tray, Hermione opened a note that simply read, Our next subject of study.

She made her way to sit near the window. Her hand stroked the soft leather binding that had no title, only small specs of gold where the title had disappeared over time. The book with its worn faded cover had been loved, or at least continuously used due to its condition.

The margins were adorned with notes and scribbles on almost every page. She ran her fingertips over the dried inks, feeling the slight indentations left behind from the writer's press of hand. The inks themselves were an assembly of multiple colors and most definitely of different writing tools. Hermione could see the blots from quills, the elegant loops of a fountain pen, ballpoint pen, and even pencil. She thought to herself how she held a timeline in her hands. A small section of someone's personal history that spanned over decades, like the rings of a tree.

She imagined Voldemort as the young Tom Riddle, hiding somewhere when he returned to the Muggle world, grabbing anything to write with as his brain dissected and reworked spells he believed were not up to par with his standards. The idea of this was not unfamiliar as she thought of her own books, however, she had preferred pieces of paper or parchment since she didn't have the heart to damage any book by writing in it.

The image of Severus's Potion textbook that Harry found not so long ago came to the forefront of her memory and she shook her head as though the action could physically push Severus and Harry out of her mind. Don't think about that now.

As her attention focused back on the book's pages, it took only seconds for her stomach to tie in a knot as the realization of their next area of study made itself known.

Hermione looked up briefly from her reading, distracted by the appearance of Voldemort in the room. She quickly lowered her head to finish the last few pages of the book, then looked up as he approached her.

"Finished?" he asked.

"It's my third time. I first read the entirety of it, then read while practicing some of the wand movements. Now, I've just completed reading your notes."

"I see," replied Voldemort, his head tilted towards his shoulder as he studied her. Hermione raised her brows in confusion.

"What?"

"It does indeed belong to me. However, I assumed hesitation on your part due to the content of the book." Hermione swallowed. I've read darker. She quieted that thought before responding.

"I've been in the Malfoy library," she smiled. "Now, what should we do next?"

"Come."

"May I ask where you're taking me?"

"In due time," he replied, outstretching his hand. Hermione took hold of his hand and followed as he guided her through their rooms towards the door that led out into the darkened hallway. She followed along as they walked. The long stretch of floor is covered by dark marble and walls are filled every so often with wooden doors, rooms that hadn't been used for quite a while. A conclusion she came up with after exploring each one on the days Voldemort had been gone. She realized quickly the wing was only occupied by them.

They continued to walk in silence until they reached the end of the hall. She watched as Voldemort placed his hand against a wooden panel causing the wall to reveal a stone staircase descending into a depth of darkness.

"Are you finally going to tell me why we are sneaking around?" asked Hermione looking down the stone steps towards the unknown.

"Do you trust me?"

"No." Hermione's face scrunched.

"Good," he smirked. "Follow me." Hermione followed behind him as he walked down the stairs. His arm raised slightly as his Lumos led the way.

The path downwards didn't take long and she soon recognized the frame of a door with a small sliver of light glowing from underneath. They entered making their way into a very massive room, its paneled walls matching the dark, almost black wood from the floors above. The only difference was the absence of portraits or any other paintings.

A fireplace took up the majority of one side of the room while the other side was inlaid with windows. Looking up, her eyes focused on the large chandeliers adorned with lit candles that didn't shine bright enough to push the darkness out of the room; however, their glow highlighted an impressive black table that took claim to the center of the room, its edges surrounded by matching black chairs detailed with leather and intricate carvings.

She had never been in this room before and imagined in the past, it would have lent itself as a ballroom for the Malfoys. Looking around it was hard for her to imagine there were once people in here enjoying dances and drinking expensive champagne as they waltzed around in silent competition of whose robes were the finest. But that wasn't true any longer. Now the room felt heavy. She could feel the dark magic that saturated the walls pierce through her clothing to prickle at her skin. A sensation she swallowed, not wanting to admit that the prickling was not all bothersome, but somewhat, pleasurable.

Voldemort speaking Parseltongue was the only indication that Nagini was in the room. Hermione walked closer to the fireplace finally noticing the large snake resting in front of the fire. The scales on her body reflected the hues of the flames and gave the illusion of fire trailing up her body as she slithered around her master to reach his shoulders. Voldemort stroked her head and whispered to her before the snake retreated and coiled herself next to the chair at the head of the table.

"Why are we here?" asked Hermione, returning her focus to Voldemort. The devious grin made Hermione feel uneasy, but she pushed that emotion down as he circled her slowly.

"I feel a proper demonstration is needed…from you."

"A demonstration? How am I-"

"Were you not the one who achieved Apparition without a wand? A task even I have never accomplished. Well, at least, never tried to accomplish."

"May I remind you that it only worked because of the emotional stress you caused me." Voldemort provided no reaction to her statement. "Besides." Hermione looked down, not wanting to show the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'm not sure if I can perform any of the spells. Wand or not. I'm surprised how some are not even classified as an Unforgivable."

Voldemort filled the short distance between them, placing a finger under her chin. He gently tilted her head up to meet his gaze before lowering his mouth to hers. His kiss was a whisper, soft and delicate. "You have something in you. Something I can feel. Something I can taste." His mouth continued slowly up her jaw. "Now, I want to see."

Voldemort's mouth stopped and as he pulled away his hands moved to both sides of her face. His lips were once again on hers and Hermione kissed him back. But as he pulled away that devious grin reappeared just as the sound of a heavy knock on the door vibrated through the massive room.

"It's time."

Voldemort pointed his wand towards her and she felt a rush of heat swirl around her body. Lowering her head she watched as her jeans were no longer denim but a simple pair of black trousers and her jumper, a long-sleeved black knit shirt that blended in with the leather gloves that now covered her hands.

"What are you-"

"Silence."

Hermione knew his word was final, so she obeyed watching as his wand movements produced a black cloak. A familiar kind of black cloak. Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly as he placed the Death Eater robe around her body and carefully pulled the hood around her hair. Hermione watched in awe and fear as the tip of his wand traced the length of her face, she suspected what was happening before she even felt the weight of the mask contouring to her face.

"Today is your first exam, dearest," replied Voldemort, placing a hand within his robe and withdrawing a second wand. "For any exam, one must be prepared." He maneuvered the wand so its handle now faced her.

The sight of the wand automatically made her fingers twitch and she exhaled before reaching forward. Her delicate fingers trembled as she grazed them along the worn handle, admiring the feel of the wood against her skin. Without another thought, she snatched the wand before he could change his mind.

She felt like crying tears of joy as her magic funneled through her body. The warm pulse making its way to its new outlet. It had felt like years rather than months since she had last held a wand in her hand and though the wand was not her own, she felt a connection as her grip grew tighter.

"Hermione."

She failed to notice that Voldemort had turned away from her and made his way to the head of the table. Her body followed shortly and she stood next to the back of his chair opposite Nagini.

"Disappointing me is a failure."

Silence filled the air. She had no idea how to respond, but she understood that whoever was behind that door, their fate was gripped within her hand.

It's been... a while.

As always thanks for sticking around and reading this story and thanks to Pamela RR.