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It felt, to Hermione, like she’d been in Malfoy Manor for weeks. She'd developed a good sense of time in her third year, but that first terrifying day had been so chaotic, and there were no windows in the basement, and she’d lost consciousness several times-
In short: she’d been in Malfoy Manor a while.
The first days had been, without question, the worst in her life. She remembered waking up, torture, attempts at feeding her, more torture, losing consciousness, fending off Legilimency, more torture until she was unconscious - then waking up the next morning and repeating the process.
Lately her captors must have gotten bored, because Hermione had been left alone. Alone…except for-
A beam of light at the far end of the basement drew her eyes as much as it repelled them. She’d grown accustomed to the gloom; natural sunlight was actually painful.
“Hey, Granger,” said Draco, as if he’d been passing her outside class. Of course, he hadn’t been that cordial to her at school, not since…at least second year when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Little rat. No, the rat had gone and strangled himself with his own hand. Little ferret.
“Come on,” the ferret said, “I’m the only one here who likes you. See? I have real bread. Don’t you want bread, Granger?”
She did want bread, desperately so, but she could never have swallowed it. The idiot hadn’t given her any liquid in three days, and she was willing to bet it was incompetence rather than malice, given this strange new turn of attitude.
“Look. Unless you want my aunt or my father to come down here I really think you should eat something, okay?”
Hermione just narrowed her eyes at him. His voice was like nails on a chalkboard. She would’ve given anything to hear actual nails on a chalkboard, because that would mean she was back at school and not-
No. No.
“Look - is there anything I can get you?”
“...Water,” she rasped. Her mouth tasted metallic, either from blood or from her desperate licking at the cellar wall the night before. She…wasn’t proud of that, but it had alleviated her thirst, a little.
Draco stared at her in a manner more reminiscent of Goyle. “...Oh. Um. Right. I’ll just…go get that.”
He left the bread and scuttled off.
Incredibly, he’d left something else as well.
Hermione didn’t believe her eyes at first. There was no way. Absolutely no way, after all this time.
But there it was: a wand. Her wand.
Tears welled in her eyes as she reached for it, stretching the limits of her restraints, half-expecting it to be either a trap or a hallucination.
Bright magic burst from her fingers, from behind her eyes, intensifying her headache for one agonising moment. A nonverbal Aguamenti later and she was starting to feel significantly better.
She didn’t know how long it would be before Draco got back. A fun locking spell she’d read in an ancient tome would hopefully slow him down, especially if there was a dearth of wands in the house, but probably not for long.
Priorities.
Holding her breath, she patched herself up as best she could and enlarged her shackles enough to slip out of them. No alarms rang, no Death Eaters appeared at the door. It was remarkably anticlimactic.
She didn’t know if apparition in or out of the Manor had been restricted since Harry and Ron had escaped with the rest of the prisoners, but it was worth a shot.
She cast a bluebell flame - as dim as she could make it; it was nice to finally be able to see but light hurt - and headed for the far end of the cellar, away from the door and any possible interruption. On the way, her eye caught on something very clearly out of place.
At first it looked like a collection of extremely straight shadows in the eye-watering light of her flame, but a closer examination revealed it to be a very large barred cage. As thin as she was she could’ve nearly slipped between the bars.
A low groan revealed something inside. “Professor Snape?”
Yes…it was most certainly him. But wasn’t he at Hogwarts, terrorising the faculty and students? How had he come to be locked up in the Malfoys’ cellar? She’d never heard anyone even speak to him. Wasn’t he supposed to be an ally of theirs?
“Either kill me or move along, Miss Granger,” came a low growl. “I am in no mood to play games with you.”
A thought stopped her. Despite Harry’s recounting of the night of Professor Dumbledore’s death, something hadn’t added up.
Everyone knew how much Professor Snape favoured Draco. Hermione had even heard Draco call him “Uncle” once. Perhaps it had been an act of compassion? Perhaps he’d realised that Professor Dumbledore had no chance of surviving, and had cast the Killing Curse to spare a child he cared for?
“Well?”
“Sir, I have a question,” Hermione said, and she cursed herself for a fool. This was not the time!
“Merlin wept - am I never to be free of your questions?”
It wasn’t a refusal.
Professor Snape sighed. “Fine. I’m clearly in Hell. Go on.”
There were so many questions. Why was he here? Why had he killed Professor Dumbledore? Was he on their side, somehow? She’d always respected him, even if he’d been nasty, but then so had Professor Dumbledore. Had they really all been wrong about him?
“What will happen if I leave you here?”
He sat up fully, considering her in the blue light. Blood dripped from his nose onto the stone floor of his cage and his eyes looked…hollow.
“If you leave me here, Miss Granger, Bellatrix will undoubtedly torture and kill me. I’d rather die now, if you can manage it or conjure me a knife.”
With a start, she realised that he meant it.
It was stupid. Even if he was on her side, he was dangerous.
She raised her wand and whispered Alohomora at the same time Professor Snape’s eyes widened and he yelled “Wait!”
The door of the cage exploded.
By the time her head stopped spinning, their captors had been summoned. Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, looking uncomfortable for once, stood to one side, while Bellatrix was shrieking curses at a twitching Professor Snape.
Abruptly Hermione realised they hadn’t even noticed her, laying in the shadows of the light the Malfoys had brought with them. Wine bottles - remnants of the cellar’s original purpose, no doubt - lay scattered and broken around her. Not two metres from her, just beyond a particularly large shard, was her wand.
A mad plan began to form.
She grabbed the shard of glass and dragged her body forward, stray slivers burrowing into her knees. She had to get up. This was it. She was so close to escape.
The cellar door slammed shut with a flick of her wand.
“Go see what that was,” Bellatrix snarled, pointing her wand at her brother-in-law. After a moment of muttering, both Malfoys wandered off.
Hermione inched closer. The mad witch, distracted by her prey, never noticed.
For a long moment, Hermione considered sparing Bellatrix: not for her sake, but because Hermione didn’t want blood on her hands. A naive thought, but its weight slowed her steps.
Professor Snape’s eyes flickered to her for barely a moment, then glanced back up at his tormentor. Nothing on his face gave away that he’d seen anything.
A flick of her wand Stunned Bellatrix, and a slice of the glass opened her throat.
She had no time to think. Professor Snape was scrawny, but heavier than he looked; it took valuable seconds to get him upright and step into the turn of Apparition.
They slammed into the spring foliage of the Forest of Dean, well away from where she’d been captured. During her time on the run, she’d set up supply caches in the hopes that she or other survivors would be able to find and use them. She’d landed nearly on top of one, and it was thankfully intact.
The single healing potion went down Professor Snape’s throat, along with sips of water from a transfigured cup. She paused long enough to remove the glass splinters from both of them before looking around.
Shelter had never really been a problem before, but it was getting dark-
“Why?” a hoarse voice asked her.
Hermione turned and considered the man lying in the grass. “Because if our roles were reversed, I don’t think you would have left me there.”
The laugh was terrible and mirthless. “You have no idea what I’ve done.”
“You’ve saved me before.”
“I haven’t been able to save anyone, lately.” Impossibly, a tear fell from Professor Snape’s eye at this admission.
Hope swelled in Hermione’s heart. She’d made the right choice, she knew it. “I suppose it’s my turn, then.”
She would get them both out of this alive.