(You're the weak one. You'll never feel love or friendship. And I feel sorry for you. - prompt)

Hermione's chest heaved as she slowly regained her breath after incessant spell casting in both defence and offence. Voldemort's sickening announcement of Harry Potter's demise churned guilt, fear and nausea within those siding against the dark lord.

"Now is the time to declare yourself," the vile man grinned maliciously; rotten, spiky teeth on full display. "Come forward and join us!" he paused, his cold, crimson eyes narrowing on the three figures that dared to curl beside the dead boy's corpse. "Or die."

Hermione collapsed by Harry's body, slowly prying the wand he had stolen from their capture at Malfoy Manor from his tattered jacket pocket. She twirled the rather bland, wooden stick in her hand, relishing in the acceptance she felt by the magical aura surrounding it. She choked back a sob. Harry was truly dead.

In the silence Hermione stood up and aimed her wand for the noseless creature. She stepped around Harry's body till she was directly in front of Lord Voldemort. Observing through the corner of her peripheral vision, she noticed the sadness etched onto Professor Slughorn's countenance, providing the teenaged girl the basis of her speech.

"Lord Voldemort," she addressed calmly; her eyes bloodshot yet dry, her stance steady despite the agony coursing through every muscle in her body.

The Death Eaters laughed when their leader cackled menacingly, "I'll admit, I expected better than a mudblood."

Hermione ignored his insult and proceeded onward, "Do you remember the Battle of the Department of Mysteries?"

"Of course I do! Unlike—"

"You know what I realised?" she interjected, not bothering in listening to whatever demeaning insults he had to throw, "Harry's words affected you."

"Your darling Potter and I have exchanged more than just a few words, mudblood." he sneered as his arms dropped to his sides.

"Oh, so you'd like for me to reiterate them to you? I apologise," she mocked, "I was under the impression that you had such an impeccable memory desirable by many." Her eyes locked into the dishevelled state of Lucius Malfoy, "You were there. Tell your leader what Harry said."

The long blonde haired man didn't know how to respond. Of course he remembered the sixteen words that had whirred around his mind during his time spent incarcerated in Azkaban. He had tried to decipher how the young Potter (and Black) heir had managed to feel emotions of sympathy towards a man who had destroyed his life since the days he had learned to toddle.

"Don't remember?" Hermione Granger's patronising voice cut through his thoughts. "No matter." Her gaze shifted back onto Lord Voldemort courageously. "You claim yourself to be so powerful, so mighty; don't you Voldemort?" she sneered, her face crumpling as though the very thought repulsed her. "Well let me remind you that it is you who is the weak one. You'll never know love or friendship. And Harry felt sorry for you, the worthless man that you are."

A bitter chuckle escaped from her lips, "Though you're not more of a man than you are a reptile, are you Voldemort?"

The crimson eyed man held his wand in her direction lazily, "Your point is... mudblood?" he said with a bored tone.

"Look around, Voldemort," she spread her arms like he had done mere minutes ago, "Do you see the face of your old potions professor? Do you see the sadness, the pain you brought on him because of the actions you took to become powerful?"

When the man didn't look, her face contorted into fury. "Look at him!" she yelled, her free hand gesturing towards the usually jovial man attempting to hide his face behind a pillar as tears streamed from his eyes.

Voldemort reluctantly glanced over before returning.

"You know, I did some research about you." Hermione continued in a softer tone, though her voice carried through the silent courtyard easily. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. Hogwarts' treasured golden boy. Highest N.E.W.Ts scores since Dumbledore. Received an Order of Merlin during his later years as a Hogwarts student." she recited the facts from memory, each word laced with increasing disgust as she listed the man's pathetic achievements.

Voldemort smirked, "Still something I pride myself in."

"Well you shouldn't!" she roared, "Each time you destroyed your soul you replaced your intelligence with insanity! Look back at the meticulous planning that went in your every move back as a student; then look at the blatant heads-first-think-later act you've adopted since your first horcrux!"

"Shut up you filthy—"

"Perhaps," she continued, "Perhaps if you had left your soul and the Potter family alone you would've been far more successful than you are now!"

"I don't care for my—"

"We know! Everyone knows that!" she yelled in frustration. "What is it that you wanted... power?"

Voldemort stayed silent.

"When you travelled in your early twenties you gained far more knowledge and thus far more power than any other than Baba Yaga and maybe Grindelwald!" Hermione swiped at her cheek that began to itch, "You had your power, you insufferable megalomaniac! Why did you bother starting a war? What made you stoop so low to the point where you find pleasure in torturing, maiming, killing innocent children?!"

By now many of Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters had their wands drawn, an action mirrored by the students, professors and aurors alike behind Hermione.

"You think you're the only one who had to sit and suffer in the forsaken orphanage?!" her breathing became ragged once again as she forced words past the lump in her throat. "Do you even remember a boy named James Granger? Do you remember a girl named Dorothy Swan?"

Voldemort appeared to think for a moment before sneering, "They were inconsequential."

"They were my grandparents!" Hermione spat. "The only reason you don't remember them is because instead of antagonising your child self they left you alone! Did you even realise in your eleven year long pity party that Dorothy was a witch too?!"

"Was she? She must've been very weak. I never sensed an aura around her."

"She was a better wizard than you ever were!" Hermione defended hotly. "Not only was she a poor orphan like you, she was worse off because she was a girl! At least your words held some weight for you. Hers didn't matter an ounce until she got married!"

"I digress." Hermione swallowed, her dry throat screaming for the luxury of water. "Immortality is great until you get bored. Once you've explored everything there is to know, what will you do then? You'll be wishing to kill yourself."

The crimson eyed man snorted, "Never will I ever wish to die."

"So you admit you'd get bored."

"I didn't say that."

"Nor did you deny it." Hermione smirked before schooling her face again. "End this war. You've killed him now but if you still had a fraction of the intelligence that Tom Riddle had, you would've known that the prophecy nullified itself after your spell rebounded on you on All Hallow's Eve."

Hermione sighed. "End the war, please, Riddle."

Voldemort swallowed as those fighting alongside and against him all lowered their wands, leaving him as the only one with one brandished.

"Don't call me by that filthy muggle name!"

"Fucking hell," Hermione grumbled, "Are you going to end this war or not?"

"Conditions are dependant." Voldemort answered smoothly.

"Discuss it over owl with McGonagall or Shacklebolt then! Your main opponents are gone, you've practically won. Just take your bloody gang and leave!"

The loud sounds of disapparation rung through the grounds of Hogwarts as Hermione fell to her knees in exhaustion. Nobody came to aid the muggleborn who had managed to convince the dark lord to cease fire for they were all too stunned to move.

The edges of her vision darkened as her body demanded rest. And with the briefest of smiles flickering over her lips, Hermione Granger slipped into unconsciousness.