Hermione’s vision blurred at the splitting pain his wand brought her. When she had the stomach to brave the pain and look down at the arm, she nearly fainted at the realization that  hit her when Tom finished, the Dark Mark on her arm. A part of her actually proud, ecstatic even, but there was still a part of her, no matter how faded it had become, that cried out in terror. She could feel the terrored cries being smothered by the darkness of the locket. Adrenaline soon took its place and soon enough, it rushed through her veins at alarming rates. She barely even realized, when the pain continued, that the Dark Mark was completed and a new mark began to form something at her neck. She’d later have to check a mirror to truly see the second, important mark he had chosen her. She was, after all, the first of her kind in the Death Eaters.