Chapter Sixteen

Escape

Somewhere after the tenth day, Hermione had lost track of time.

All she did now was lie down facing the window by the stormy North Sea, which sent rain straight into her cell. That is, if it could be called a window. It was more like the stones of the wall had fallen away, exposing the outside. She could have jumped if she wanted to, but she couldn't even muster the energy to move her hand in that direction.

Her brown hair was tangled, frizzed, wet and fell over her face and across the straw-covered floor and she didn't even bother brushing it away. There was a crust of bread and a flagon of water nearby lying untouched for days. When the dementors glided past her cell, she started screaming for them to get away, but she realized the screaming was all in her mind now; she was in a nightmare from which she couldn't wake. It took hours of trying and wishing to make herself turn slightly onto her back.

A long time ago in Hogwarts, she imagined she would be hysterical if she ever found herself in Azkaban and forgot all the people she had known and loved. Now, if you asked her what was it like to be around a dementor, she would know better - you became a ghost, a shell. At first, it felt strange, almost like a panic attack. Her heart started racing quickly, mostly out of fear. She didn't know when she started forgetting, because it happened so slowly. The memories slip and slide and finally fall so far away that you can't even think to look for them.

She forgot she had been a Gryffindor, brave, smart, capable, good, and kind. She forgot she was loved. She forgot her parents. She forgot her friends. She forgot all the points she had won, all the spells she had cast, all the books she had read, all the jokes she had shared with Harry and Ron. She forgot how it felt when Malfoy kissed her, and she forgot his face, and the way his hair fell in his eyes.

Everything faded to black. Everything seemed hopeless. Hermione was simply waiting for death.

To pass the time, she used to try to discern the voices of the screaming, to try to tell if it was Harry or Ginny or Seamus or Flitwick who was behind the blood-curdling cries. But soon she tired of that game, and she didn't want to hear them anymore because she didn't want to hear them dying. Because they were never getting out of here alive.

Because no one could survive this.

Well, that's what she thought, until the day Luna strolled into her cell and smiled vaguely at her, dusting imaginary dust off her lilac robes.

At first Hermione thought it was a hallucination. But when Luna leaned over and absentmindedly brushed the matted hair out of Hermione's eyes, Hermione flinched. It was the first move she had moved in a week.

"You really should brush your hair, you know," Luna said dreamily.

"Luna," Hermione said hoarsely, "Wha-what -"

"They don't lock the doors," Luna said, answering the unspoken question in Hermione's mind, "They think we can't escape."

"Luna, how did you escape your chains - is everyone else -" Hermione began, but couldn't finish asking her question.

"You just slip out of them," Luna looked her up and down, "You're doing better than the rest of them though. Harry's a mess." Luna reached over for the flagon of water and held it to Hermione's lips. "You should drink something," Luna said.

"How are you so -?" Hermione asked in shock. She glanced out her cell and worriedly noticed that the dementors were on the other side of the prison, and it would take them a couple minutes to come back and notice something was amiss.

"Oh, the dementors don't bother me for some reason," Luna said airily, "The wrackspurts, though … you haven't seen them around, have you?" She asked, swatting the air a little and ducking.

"No," Hermione lips cracked a smile, "No, I haven't."

"Oh well, I should be heading back to my cell," Luna said, getting to her feet and dusting herself off casually, "They'll think something's up. I can come back later though."

Luna did come back. She returned everyday.

Hermione barely responded most days, just letting Luna ramble on, wondering if the girl was just a figment of her imagination, or she was going insane. How could someone be so calm in Azkaban? Sometimes Luna just sat there, gathering straw from Hermione's cell for some odd reason.

Even though she didn't want to admit it, Hermione seemed to be getting better with Luna around. The third day, Luna taught Hermione a complicated move that showed her how she brought her hands under her legs and how she brought her hands to her face so she could bite the chains off. It took Hermione a couple days, but she was finally free. She rubbed her wrists in relief and stumbled to her feet and get the cramp out of her legs. The dementors didn't seem to notice that she was free or that she was getting better or even that Luna was escaping her cell everyday. It was like they were distracted by something else, although Hermione couldn't for the life of her imagine what.

"We should think of something," Luna said casually one day, gathering straw to make herself a tiara and holding it to her head, "I think we should escape."

It was just like Luna to suggest something so ridiculous.

"Luna, we can't. That's impossible."

"Well, at least I got you to say something," Luna said, shrugging, " You were getting awfully quiet back there. I was getting worried, you know," she said, and took the straw tiara off to add more straw to it. "I'll be heading off then," Luna said and pranced out, leaving Hermione by herself.

"But escape is impossible." Hermione said again to no one in particular, and it felt like she was thinking of something, but she didn't know what. "Impossible."

"Impossible?" She heard a hoarse voice say, a few cells down.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding nearly hysterical from joy. "Harry? Is that you?"

"Hermione, are you all right?" Harry asked a little weakly. "Luna's been coming by, visiting all of us, cheering us up. What do you mean, escape is impossible?"

"But no one's ever escaped Azkaban before," Hermione said, "No one. Of course there was Sirius Black, but he was an Animagus! And the Death Eaters escaped in mass numbers, but they had assistance! I don't think any of us can do it on our own. It's impossible. Impossible," Hermione repeated with finality, and she absentmindedly reached over for the crust of bread that had been tossed in a few days ago.

"I'm going to ask you again. Impossible?" Harry asked. He stopped, and it was deadly silent. "Hermione Jean Granger," Harry gritted out, "Are you, or are you not a witch? If you can't figure out a way out of here, no one can. You're the only one who knows how to do it."

Even though his voice went silent after that, his words rang in her mind all night long.

Hermione groaned in frustration. It was just like Harry and Ron and everyone else to leave it to her to figure everything out. She didn't always have the answers! How was she supposed to plot an escape out of Azkaban of all places? How was she supposed to find a way for them to escape alive? How was she supposed to do it on her own?

She remembered how she used to listen for the sound of the slightest movement in the prison, and remembered how she wished it was Draco coming to free her. Her heart used to speed up with the hope, but then every time it turned out to be someone else, or the dementors bringing in a new prisoner. It was difficult to tell herself that Draco wasn't coming, or that he couldn't, and that every footstep was not his. If they were going to escape, it would have to be done by them alone, and she seemed to be the one to lead them, and she was determined to find a way.

First things first. She needed a wand. She didn't have one. None of them did.

Hermione groaned in frustration.

So, second things first. The only thing she could think of was to begin practicing wandless magic, something she'd only read about before, and something few wizards had ever mastered. It sounded like a mad plan at first, but that was all she could do at the moment, short of jumping out the window.

The days Luna didn't come by, she practiced. She spent countless hours every day repeating spells, even though the only one that worked was her Patronus. One day, something white and smoky leapt out of her fingertip every time she thought of Draco and said the spell, as she remembered the one moment that made her feel happiest and full of hope. At first it was a little glow at the end of her fingernail. She gasped loudly in surprise and sat up.

"Harry! I think it's working!" She cried.

"That's great, Hermione! Keep trying!" Harry said encouraging her, "Keep going! You can do it.'

She tried repeating it till a couple days later when it became a little smoky wisp. Hermione practiced all night long after that. In the morning, it was a burst that disappeared, but she could have sworn it looked like an otter, or something like it. That evening, it became a fully formed figure that trotted around the room a little before disappearing. Even Luna saw it once. It was really curious, she thought smiling. It seemed to be changing form too. It used to be an otter, but now it seemed to resemble a ferret. It kept growing in size till it was nearly bigger than she was.

In the days to come, Luna managed to get everyone out of their chains. They were all huddled together in Hermione's cell at the end of the hallway and there were about a hundred of them, less than half were members of the Order of the Phoenix. The oddest thing was that the dementors seemed hardly to notice this change in the prison's accommodations. Though they glided past the cells, they were distracted and seemed to be diminishing in number, though how that was possible she didn't know.

Her patronus grew stronger as the days passed, and she wondered if that had anything to do with the dementors' growing weaker. At this point, Harry and the others managed to gain their strength, and Harry was the only other person able to conjure his patronus wandlessly. They took turns to use the spell to keep everyone's spirits up. But they had to devise another way out other than just keeping the dementors at bay because they didn't know how long they'd be able to hold them off.

They needed another plan. A better one.

Hermione knew that the prisoners weren't allowed to apparate within the prison, but it was possible to apparate outside of it. She peered out of her window, and noticed the nearly hundred foot drop to the rocks below. It was a precarious drop, suicide at best. But it was better than staying here, and on that point everyone agreed, even Hermione, who was afraid of heights.

Luna suggested they use a rope to lower themselves as much as possible, before jumping. All the straw Luna had been gathering had been for a purpose after all.

They had planned to apparate to a secret Order hideaway that only Harry knew the location of, to ensure its safety.

Finally, the day came for the great escape. That morning Hermione noticed that there were only about a handful of dementors. It was a sunny day too, which may have helped them and moved the odds in their favor. They even tested the rope and found that it very nearly reached the bottom, which was good enough for all of them. It was now or never.

One by one, they lowered themselves out the window, and the rope tugged and pulled, while they held on to it. Harry leaned out the window and looked down, and let the others know triumphantly that the ones who had escaped had done it. They had apparated. Everyone cheered and hurried along. Luna was one of the last few to leave, and she wished the rest of them luck, and then held on to the rope and jumped off.

It was down to Harry and Hermione and they were arguing who was going to be last. They decided to tie the rope to the bars of the cell door, and testing its strength, decided that they'd both go down together, or at least Harry would go down first since Hermione was deathly afraid. Hermione took a nervous breath. She held on to the rope with both hands, and noticed how cold and clammy her fingers were and how rough the rope was. The wind near the window was blowing fiercely, and the rope swayed to and fro, which made her doubly nervous. When it swung one way, when Harry was climbing down, she screamed.

"Harry! You prat! Stop moving!" She yelled, and he muttered a curse under his breath.

"How am I supposed to get down without bloody moving?" He asked through clenched teeth.

"I don't know! Stop moving the rope!" She yelled again.

"That's not me! That's the wind!" Harry yelled.

"Stop talking! You're making me nervous!" Hermione said, screwing her eyes shut.

He stayed silent.

"Harry!" She screamed, looking down nervously, "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"You just told me to - ugh!" Harry muttered a curse under his breath. "Hermione! Let go! You can do it! Climb down!" Harry yelled. "You'll be fine!"

Hermione had in reality barely moved from the window. She noticed Harry getting further and further down while she still hadn't made her way out. She saw a faint movement as he apparated and decided it was now or never.

Her hand slipped a little, and her hands tightened around the rope, paralyzed. She took a deep breath, and thought of the day she flew with Malfoy, and tried to calm herself. She let herself down slowly, and even though the rope swayed, and the wind seemed to be picking up, she was determined to do it. Her legs found a foothold on the wall, and she slowly lowered herself down.

"Oh no you don't!" She heard a gruff voice near her ear and her eyes opened wide in panic as a pair of rough hands clamped around her arms and pulled her up. "Tryin' to get away, were you?"

Out of everything she had planned that day, she wasn't ready to come face to face with Yaxley, Goyle, Mulciber and about forty Death Eaters staring murderously at her from her cell.

"Where's Potter? Where are all the others?" Yaxley yelled at her as he dropped her on the floor. He was towering over her and baring his teeth.

Bellatrix shrieked, running from empty cell to empty cell, "They've gone! They're all gone!"

"How'd you manage to do it? What'd you do to all the dementors?" Goyle was yelling.

"They didn't even have wands!" Lestrange added.

Hermione cowered in the corner, glad that Harry had escaped. She searched the faces of the Death Eaters, looking for Malfoy's, but he wasn't there. Suddenly, she heard a hissing sound and saw Nagini slither toward her. She looked up, fearful. Voldemort's face was suddenly inches from her own.

"Well, well, well, this is mossst interesssting," He hissed.

"What are we going to do with her, My Lord?" Yaxley asked unctuously, his shoulders hunched. "She knows Potter and the others are and she isn't telling."

"Take her to Luciusssss," Voldemort hissed, walking away from her, "He hass waysss of making them talk."

Author's Note:

This chapter was just a means for her to get to Malfoy Manor where all the bantering and fun between Draco and Hermione starts again.

So the only one who didn't escape Azkaban was Hermione, who is discovered at the last moment by the Death Eaters, who then decide to take her to Malfoy Manor for questioning. Stay tuned for the next chapter where she and Draco meet once again, and she finally meets Pansy Parkinson. And why is Narcissa Malfoy so nice to their new prisoner? The rest of the story, which will be about ten more chapters (or more), is going to take place in Malfoy Manor where Hermione goes from being its prisoner to the lady of the house.