You guys are going to hate me, but thanks for helping me reach 100 reviews. You stuck to this story throughout the spelling mistakes and obvious Mary Sue remarks. Heres to 100 more! :D

Sobbing back fake tears, Hermione grinned shallowly at Harry and Ron leaving the Hogwarts Express, before grabbing her trunk and Tsavo. She held hands with Draco Malfoy and his mother, apparating back to Voldemort's house, grins spread out on each and every face that greeted them.

Sixth year was officially finished for the gang, ended a traumatic death yet renewed hope between both legions.

A battle had raged between Hogwarts and the Death eaters, blazing fury sparking out between friends and enemies.

Draco, scared stiff between the thought of disappointing his father, or his death by the hands of Tom Riddle, had disarmed the weakened Dumbledore, leaving Snape to kill him. Although they were both shrouded in praise and respect from their fellow Death eaters, Tom included, both were extraordinarily pale, barely touching their food at the dinner table and looking more thin and sallow by the day.

The war, not only enjoying its triumphs over the Founder of the Order of the Phoenix, had also cemented the friendships, (although fake,) between the young Slytherins and Gryffindors. Hermione had been let in on the "Secret" of the Horcruxes by Ron and Harry- their patronising was stifling at best.

Blaise, meanwhile, was nestled even deeper into the nest of Weasleys.

Sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, he smiled softly at the letters sent to him by the fiery haired witch.

Later that summer Hermione would be joining the boys at the Burrow for Ron's family wedding. It was from there on they would be embarking on their trip to destroy the Horcruxes. Hermione swore to herself she would find a way, each and every time, to prevent them from destroying her uncle's soul.

Literally.

But a month into the summer holidays, the foursome were having fun kicking back their feet and enjoying the silenced rays of the sun, clouded over by Dementors from the breakout of Azkaban.

Hermione and Pansy were chatting about their dresses for the upcoming party, whilst Blaise had already been sent packing to stay with the Weasley's for a week or two.

Voldemort, surprisingly, was one for big parties. He just adored the entertainment, the drink, the fun and sickly sweetness of being in a throng of happy people. So when Dumbledore's death had been cast over the nation the previous month, of course Tom sent for his elves and lowliest workers to gather the requirements for the best party he had ever thrown.

That was a week ago, and right now, to find Hermione, Tom, and the gang, you would have to look in the grand hall, where most of the Death Eaters could be found, drinking, laughing, testing out new curses on unwitting muggles used as slaves.

The celebrations had gone on for hours, and Severus and Draco had taken the revered seats next to Voldemort. Draco still wasn't back to his old self, Hermione had noticed, and he kept his wrists tightly covered with a sharply cut white shirt.

Voldemort had broken out his Death Eaters, who had managed to get themselves locked up, in last year's debacles, and Lucius was reunited with his loving family. Whilst unshaven, and smelling slightly of depression, he smiled weakly whenever Hermione giggled and talked to him.

Although Dumbledore was, admittedly, sometimes kind to Hermione, she was glad he was dead. From the sky, he could now see the truth behind the Death Eater organization.

Just then, a small child running around with his father's Death Eater mask tripped, and screwed his face up in tears. Bellatrix, the woman who tortured muggles and collected their blood to sell, picked up the young boy and sent him off with a kiss.

It wasn't just a cause- it was Hermione's life...her family.

Many couples danced around the great hall, laughing and waltzing to the music played by snobbish band members. Whilst Blaise was currently stuck in the hovel known as The Burrow, and Pansy sneaking off with Mulciber the Executioner, Hermione was having fun chatting to Fenrir about his adventures around the country hunting muggles. Scabior had nodded at her and smiled, but he strolled off, complaining of the heat.

"D'you remember when I took you to Diagon Alley when you were only a few summer's old? It was packed then, but the whole street was empty this time round, and anyone brave enough to show up scuttled quickly to the pair of Gingers' new shop. It was fun." Fenrir licked his lips, and was about to continue when Narcissa, pale, quickly tugged on Hermione's sleeve. She wore a frown on her pale face,

"Follow me, dear."

Hermione smiled at Fenrir before trotting after Narcissa, bemused,

Fenrir calmed his thumping heart, and the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach, grinning dopily after the pair of women.

Hermione happily skipped, slightly tipsy, within the large castle next to Narcissa and a bottle of Fire Whisky.

"What's this about, aunty-"

Narcissa shh'd her, before casting the Muffilatio charm.

"I was walking back to the room, when I heard giggling. I looked around, and... I am so sorry, dear."

Hermione looked bemused.

Hearing laughter, further along the corridor, Hermione poked her head, around the corridor, grinning.

What she saw would haunt her for many moons.

Scabior, holding a bottle of champagne in his hand, held one of the cheap tarts brought as dates by Purebloods, kissing her bright red lips and smirking.

"Scabior!"

He looked up; his normally beautiful ice blue eyes dulled by alcohol and lust, and started spluttering.

"I-We-Hermione-"

Pushing past Narcissa, Hermione ran down the grand staircase and out of the doors.

Bringing the almost empty firewhisky bottle to her lips, Hermione took a long hard swig, before throwing the bottle to the ground,, creating a long, echoing smack. Tears, unshed, lay in the pits of her eyes.

Hermione didn't cry. When she was taken from her parents, there was many a night where Hermione missed them and their comforting hugs.

But then she remembered her uncle, her friends, and the wonderful rush being around magic gave her.

But back to then, and now.

A rustling in the tree's alerted Hermione to her uncle's presence. He had no need, or feeling to give her a hug, but instead stated to her,

"I shall have him annihilated, if you so wish."

"No. I won't lower to his level."

Hermione sighed, and rubbed her chest.

"Does it always hurt this much?"

"Heartache is the one thing the Wizarding World can't cure."

Voldemort inched forward, and gave her a small hug.

"I know what he meant to you, my dear. I do not say this often, but he truly isn't worth the amount of respect I had paid him."

"He proposed to me, you know. We were going to have a wedding once we had won this war. I suppose that has been cancelled, now. "

When Fenrir found out, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Any ideas for Hermione's love life?