Hermione's eyes floated down to rest on the shadows that encompassed the majority of her cell – something that looked only marginally better than a dungeon, if Hermione were to be honest – shivers wracking through her body as a dementor passed by her gate. When Hermione had first been sent to Azkaban, she hadn't thought that her sanity would remain for as long as it had – that was what the books vehemently argued, at least – but it had already been a year and, while many of her happiest memories had fled, her sanity had remained behind.
Although, that didn't mean that her mind was the same as it had been when she had first arrived. In an effort to protect itself it had layered itself, and none of her emotions were easily accessible any more – they all felt somewhat muted, something that had stopped the dementors from visiting her as often as they did before.
And, from Harry's reaction whenever he came to visit her with promises of getting her out, told Hermione that the changes were visible, although they didn't seem to bother Harry too much – other than the odd question of whether or not the dementors still bothered her.
Ron hadn't come to visit, but Hermione couldn't really say that she was awfully surprised. The Weasleys were a notoriously Light family, and she had killed someone with her magic – using an Unforgiveable, nevertheless. They couldn't be seen with someone that was considered to be Dark like she was, despite being a muggleborn. Harry probably shouldn't either, but Harry had never cared for things like that – something that Hermione was glad for now.
"My, my, who would have thought the goody Granger would end up here?"
It wasn't Harry, Hermione knew that he would never mock her like that, but that voice was familiar – if only by the gloating lilt to it. There was only one person who would actually bother to come to see her suffering, and only one Slytherin who had access to enough power to allow him to travel her for nothing more than a visit.
"Come here to watch my suffering, Malfoy?" Hermione said raising an eyebrow. "I admit, you are the first, though. Perhaps I should give you a medal for that… although I'm quite short of medals at the moment."
"I'm quite fine without one. Although you may want to give the little Weasel a medal for everything he's sprouting…" Draco drawled, handing a piece of paper to Granger. "I'm actually surprised Potter hasn't cursed him yet. Potter looks like he's on the verge of it every time Weasel opens his mouth!"
"I fail to see why you're so concerned for Ronald's well-being," Hermione said absently, her eyes flying over the untidy scrawl that she knew was Harry's.
It had been Hermione that had warned Harry that it would be too suspicious to break her out while he was there, and Harry had, somehow, enlisted the help of Malfoy. Hermione didn't think that Malfoy would have half-cared to help, but apparently things had changed in the last year. Hermione doubted she would recognise the dynamics in Hogwarts if she ever returned.
"Look around you, what do you see? It's all pretend. It's all made up. You own nothing. Nothing except sorrows and bars and rusty metal staircases. You'll never live, because outside you don't exist. No one will remember you. No one," Draco said suddenly, eyes burning fiercely bright.
"And they wouldn't need to," Hermione replied immediately, a half-smile on her lips as her brown eyes met Malfoy's silvery ones.
"You'll die in here, Hermione Granger."
So that was the plan, then. Hermione couldn't say that she disapproved as her cell gate swung opened with Draco walking in moments later. As he moved closer, Hermione could see the beads of sweat that clung to Draco's skin at his strained use of magic.
Simultaneously, Hermione was covered in what she was certain was Harry's invisibility cloak, and another her landed harshly on the bed that she had occupied earlier. Whoever it was breathed harshly, choking on themselves every few minutes, and Hermione only pitied that person for their painful death. The necklace that she wore was left on the other person – ensuring that her magical signature would register on the foreign body.
Hermione knew she was being more than a little selfish, but she wanted to survive and that was exactly what she was going to do. The person who replaced her was on the verge of death anyway.
Hermione Granger would die in Azkaban, but she wasn't no longer her. She wasn't that blindly trusting Gryffindor, and she wouldn't be again.
Written for Fanfiction World Adventures Competition: Kilmainham Gaol [any wizarding prizon; dungeon; suffering; someone underage being imprisoned; dialogue]
Written for Ultimate Battle Competition – Winter Tuque