Disclaimer: I do not own the literary works of J.K Rowling, any of the characters you recognize are hers. I am not affiliated with Warner Brothers, Bloomsbury Publishing, Scholastic Publishing, or any actors or directors involved in the making of the Harry Potter Books and Films. In other words, don't sue me.

Warnings/Triggers: Mentions of suicide, torture, scenes of a sexual nature, strong language, Character Death, infidelity, adultery, Blood Magic, Sex Magic, Dark Magic, Orgy, and probably some more that I'm forgetting. Don't like any of the above, then please don't waste, mine or your time to skim through a chapter only to leave a flame.

Special Note: The nickname "Princess" is Canimal's creation and all credit goes to her for it. I will be creating a different background for Thorfinn in this Fic though.

Atropos

Eldest of the Moirai;
The one who cuts the thread of life.

Hermione Granger was known for many things throughout wizarding London. The Brightest Witch of her age, the muggle-born who helped Harry Potter vanquish Lord Voldemort, the Gryffindor Princess, and according to some brilliant but scary. To most people, she was simply the brains behind the trio, a goody-two-shoes bookworm, who had simply become friends with Harry Potter by pure chance. Amongst the Elite Pureblood faction, she was the real reason Lord Voldemort was dead, after all if not for her and pure luck, Potter would be dead and Lord Voldemort would reign. These opinions were kept quietly to themselves though, lest someone find out that many still held hope for the return of their Lord, and be thrown in Azkaban.

But what people didn't know about Hermione Granger, is what made her dangerous. Most believed she should have been placed in Ravenclaw, but truthfully, she belonged in Slytherin. She was cunning and ambitious, with goals far loftier than anyone realized. While many saw her as a beacon for the light, she rather preferred the shades of gray. The middle-ground in which she could practice both light and dark magic. She didn't see the point in banning certain spells and labelling them Dark, not when magic was all about intent. After all, in her experiments, she had found that even the most innocuous spells could be deadly if wielded properly.

Applying several overpowered scourgify to a person would make the skin start to tear and peel away painfully, a well-placed diffindo could easily sever a major artery, and if one really wished they could easily Accio a person's heart from their chest. These were all things Hermione had tested for herself, on various victims, before obliviating them and sending them on their way. Perhaps it was because of the blurring of darkness and light that she found herself approaching the island that held Azkaban.

Though the Dementors were gone, the prison was still just as cold and dreadful as Sirius had said. The harsh winds of the North Sea howled with the crashing of the waves on jagged rocks, bringing with them a bone chilling cold. The large prison broke through the skies with a stark contrast, made even more prevalent by the occasional lightning strikes across the sky. Yes, she thought, the Dementors may be gone, but their darkness remains.

Her black leather boots made a soft splashing sound as she walked up to the entrance of the Prison, handing over her wand for verification of who she was, always unnerved her. Honestly, as if there weren't charms that could identify a person, they had to take a witch's wand. The guard ran the precursory scan and nodded in approval before handing her wand back over.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. If you'll just step through these doors, the Warden will take you to see the Prisoner's you requested." Spoke the guard quietly. Hermione allowed a small smile to grace her lips at that. Surprising what you could get away with when people assumed you were an innocent little girl. Nodding to the guard she stepped through the heavy door and was greeted rather warmly by the Warden.

Archibald Wilkins was a greying man in his fifties, with a penchant for drinking too much firewhiskey and enjoying too many pleasures of the flesh. He was rather on the short side, with the beginnings of a burgeoning belly, dark eyes were set heavily into his rather chubby face, and deep laugh lines surrounded his thin lips. All in all, he looked more like he belonged in an office setting instead of as the Warden of one of the most guarded prisons on the continent.

"Miss Granger, what a pleasant surprise to see you here. I must say, when I got your request I was rather surprised. May I ask just why you want to speak with five of the most dangerous prisoners we house here?" Archibald asked quietly, gently steering her towards the lift closest to them.

Hermione inwardly grinned at that, as an Unspeakable she was privy to many secrets of the Ministry and everyone wanted to know what she was working on, and what exactly she knew. Truth be told, this was her own personal pet project, and none of her superiors knew she was doing it. Of course, no one was going to double check anything Hermione said so she felt confident this would work.

"I'm sorry Mr. Wilkins, but I'm not allowed to say. Top secret, you see?" Hermione whispered, eyes sparkling with mischief. Archibald nodded very seriously, as if he kept deep dark secrets every day.

"Of course, of course. Well, it appears we're here to see the first of the prisoners. Inmate A009823 Thorfinn Rowle. I suppose I ought to leave you to it then. Just tap your wand on the door when you're finished here, and I'll take you to see the others." He told her genially before opening the door with a wave of his wand.

Hermione nodded at him and stepped through the now open door, sighing when it closed with a clang startling the prisoner in the room. He had curled in on himself and huddled into the far corner with his back against the wall. His normally long flowing golden hair, was hanging limply around his face, and seemed to be coated in a dark gray film. She had a lot of work to do, and a very short amount of time to do it.

"Get up Rowle!" She barked at him, hoping that he hadn't been driven completely insane by this place yet. That he would still be of some use to her, otherwise she would have to formulate a new plan, and that is something she didn't have the patience for.

Slowly he looked up at her and a slightly crazed smile graced his features, "Princess? Finally came to gloat, have you?"

Hermione smiled back warmly. Oh, he was going to be perfect if he was still calling her Princess.

"No Rowle, I rather thought I'd get you out of this shithole, along with a few others." She told him taking great joy in the look of surprise on his face. He eyed her suspiciously for a moment before breaking out in laughter.

"And just what's in it for you and me, Princess?" He finally asked, scooting closer to her without uncurling himself.

Squatting down so they were at eye level, she allowed her hand to rest along his strong jaw line, whispering "Everything."

A/N: And there we have it, the beginning of my first ever Dark!Hermione Fic. Please leave a review if you enjoyed this, and would like to see more. I intend to flesh it out some more, but it will most likely be updated sporadically. This fic will mostly center around Hermione and some of Voldemort's Death Eaters. I will be blurring the ages of some of them, and adding new characters as well. Thanks for reading.