Author's Note: Okay, since you requested it as a February treat :D, and since all the chapters are already written...here's another one!

Thanks again for being awesome. Happy reading!

Chapter 14

Hermione's first day in Azkaban had been one of the worst in her life. Give her all of the pain and fear she had experienced up until this point instead of this desolate, soul sucking existence. She was sure that Dementors fixated on the new arrivals to Azkaban in the first few days because there was so much joy to suck out. After that was gone, they probably floated around the stone castle of death sniffing out any momentary instant of peace or joy.

Hermione could feel her happiness being sucked out. Every moment in time that she pulled from to keep going was drained away, and the cold nothing seeped in to every crack and crevice of her body.

Hermione looked down at her hands. They were large and calloused. She was somewhat appreciative for the fact that she had extra meat on her bones. Hermione in original form would have frozen by now.

For an entire week, Hermione drifted in a daze of hunger and jittering misery. They slid in a small tray of moldy bread, some raw meat, and dingy water in a metal cup. She chattered as she gagged down the water. She tried to avoid the food, but after a few nights she knew she wouldn't be strong enough to survive without it.

Hermione tried to think of her friends, to trust that they were looking for her. To know that they would figure out that she was not really with them. Then, the pull in her gut wished that they didn't figure it out, because if they did she would lose them too. A vision of Savoy's head smacking down on the plate appeared in her mind. She tried to shake it away, but every heart-wrenching, lonely, self-eviscerating thought was heightened and expanded here into an endless loss of self.

The constant barrage of rain and thunder clouds made it difficult to feel as if there was ever a difference between night and day, but when night came, it was black. The only sense that you were not completely, crushingly alone was the cackling and psychotic laughing that would come sporadically from prisoners down the hall.

She imagined that the Death Eaters she fought against those years ago were here with her. Her only company in this nothingness.

A mix of sand, dirt, and stone was all that made up of her living arrangements. She had a special corner dedicated to relieving herself, but the stench always filtered over.

Every time the guard came by to deliver her decaying meal for the day, she begged them to listen to her. To send a message to Ron or Harry. That she was a member of the Golden Trio and was being held prisoner. Of course, once the other prisoners heard that, they too started mimicking the same for entertainment. She even tried once to reach through the bars of the window to grab the guards wand. She was not fast enough and nowhere near close enough, and before realizing it, her body was flying through the air back into the cell and up against the hard stone of the wall. The burst took the wind out of her and she was gasping for air, and her entire body was aching for the next three days.

After about two weeks of unending desolation, she barely even noticed that the door to the prison cell had been unlocked. She spent most of her days trying to get all thoughts out of her mind, for every good thought came Dementors and every bad thought made her want to die. It felt like she was on the Horcrux hunt again, but instead of carrying the devil's instrument, it was buried inside her.

"New flatmate ya dragon piss." The guard called as she glanced up to see another figure falling into her cell.

Hermione pulled herself up, barely having enough energy after retching her food up yesterday. She was glad that her build gave her some semblance of intimidation. Fortunately this figure didn't tower above her as she stood up.

"Who are you?" She heard herself ask.

"I'm not sharing meals with you." The figure hissed.

"We don't each get a meal?" Hermione didn't want to sound too naïve. She didn't want to trust anyone.

"We only double up when there are too many prisoners." The figure said. "Eventually one of us will die, and the other will keep rations."

Hermione felt an uneasiness settle in.

"Let's just say, I'm still not dead...and I don't plan to be." He walked menacingly into the light.

"Dolohov." Hermione caught herself saying.

Dolohov looked at her in surprise and almost a form of longing, like he hadn't heard his name in so long that it surprised him.

Hermione continued to hold her ground, but knew her clock was ticking. At some point in the near future one of them would die of starvation or by the others hand.

Her mind, while being in dull misery these past days, was now sharp and her body held all of her energy for protection and to listen for any sounds that came her way from across the room.

That evening came and as soon as the food slab slid into their room, both launched themselves for it. Dolohov bit her ear, she punched him in the face. The slab slid this way and that. The dirt water had tipped and spilled across the floor, leaving them both to howl in anger. Dolohov managed to get the meat and she the bread, both knowing that either wouldn't be enough to sustain them.

The most dangerous time came after dark when the space was pitch black. While she was exhausted from the day, she was on high alert.

Both she and Dolohov remained in silence as the darkness and sleep eventually took hold. It went on like that for two more days and both she and Dolohov were getting weaker and weaker. She was sure that Dolohov had not attacked her yet for fear that he would be overcome. While he had been in here longer and had more experience, she still had more meat on her bones.

Hermione had dozed off in the rainy afternoon light (she had gotten better at telling days and time here), when she sprung awake with two sharp hands gripping her neck.

"DIE!" Dolohov shoved her down onto the floor and he was now sitting on top of her crushing her windpipe with his hands.

Though she only had seconds to react, a clear and distinct question came to the forefront of her mind: Did she want to die?

With all that had happened, and all that was happening, was it even worth it? Her life appeared before her in an instant and she wanted to cry. All the time she wasted in fear and jealousy and loneliness. She could have had everything she wanted if she had just had the courage. Here she was, in Azkaban laying underneath Antonin Dolohov as he snuffed the life out of her for some moldy bread and meat. What had she become?

N..nnoooo. Her mind screamed. Despite the searing pain of her throat, her body shifted and her hands clasped on the ground searching for anything to grasp, anything to use as a weapon.

Just as her vision started blackening around the edges, her fingers grabbed hold of a small rock and she slammed it into Dolohov's head.

Dolohov swayed backward. In all reality, Dolohov's grip on her throat wasn't very tight as he also lacked the strength, but due to her malnutrition it had been working and she was sure he had strangled someone here before. Her rock was also measly, but due to both of their weakened states, the fight was life or death.

Hermione rolled over gasping for air. Her throat seared and she couldn't get any noise out, not that it made a difference. She was sure no one would come to either of their rescue, they would only come for the dead body.

She pulled herself up slightly when Dolohov gained his balance again and launched at her. She shifted to the side and then used every ounce of muscle memory from her self defense practice with Ron. She sent an uppercut his way that sent him flying backwards onto the floor.

She wanted to launch herself at him, to destroy him so she felt safe, but she also knew that despite him being a Death Eater, he was also another being living in this hellhole for years.

"Stop" she mouthed to him, not being able to use her voice. She held up her hand.

Dolohov got back up, blood dripping from his head as he launched at her again. This time, she braced her legs in a wide stance, and used her arm to guide his force past her and with every ounce of strength she had left, she flipped him over onto the floor. Though she knew as Kovac she was stronger and sturdier, it still surprised her how light Dolohov was. Mere skin and bones.

He slammed to the ground and she heard a crack. Like his bones were toothpicks. Her eyes widened as she looked down at the lifeless form below her. The shadows of night were looming, but she could clearly see that Dolohov's eyes had the vacant stare of death.

Her body fell back against the stone wall as she stared at him. She stared at him for over an hour. She did not cry, but she felt as if maggots were chewing through her insides. She had just killed a man, one who had done unspeakable things, yet was just trying to survive here.

Her heart sank at the thought of what Sirius must have gone through - knowing he was innocent, yet also knowing that this prison was designed for misery. Hermione never thought about what torture went on in Azkaban. She and the wizarding world always felt safe with Azkaban here to lock away "bad guys", but even people who make evil choices shouldn't have to go through this.

The guard slipped the tray of food through the slot and gave a nod of respect as he disappeared. She grabbed the food and sucked down the dingy water like it was liquid gold. Soon after two guards came in, one pointing a wand at her, the other guard using his wand to lift the lifeless Dolohov out of her cell.

That night she slept more deeply than she had the entire time in Azkaban. She slept like she was dead.

Morning came, and despite the hollers and psychotic screams, she had been in a silent trance staring at the red spot where Dolohov had once been. Something in her had sparked in the moment she was being choked by Dolohov, when she was seconds from death. Something she didn't realize she needed.

It was her desire to live. And a fearlessness that ignited so rapidly she didn't quite know what to do with it. But that wasn't right either. She did know what to do with it, she was going to save her friends. She was going to save Ron.

As soon as that realization hit, it was no longer if she could escape, but how. Decisions and next steps became so much more manageable. She had a goal. Her brain, something she hadn't used in weeks, was now back to it's Hermione logic, ticking through guard timing, Dementor visits and what she knew about Azkaban from books.

After a few days of recuperating, despite still not having any voice, she knew what she needed to do. There would be no way off this death trap of an island if she didn't have a wand. And the only way she would get a wand is if she was able to take one from a guard. Unfortunately, these guards were experienced. In order to take a wand from a guard, she would need magic. A true 'chicken or egg' puzzle.

For any other witch or wizard in the entire world, they would not have a solution to this problem, but Hermione was different. There was only one human who had ever opted to form SPEW at Hogwarts, to stand up for elves, and to live with them for six months. While elves adored Harry, because of Dobby, they loved her even more for being an ally of theirs in the wizarding world. Thus, they imparted a gift to Hermione. A secret above secrets. She had alluded to it during her training sessions with wizards, but none of them understood or realized the magnitude of what she described, because none of them had seen it with their own eyes. None of them had been taught.

In her last month with the elves, Head Elf Engelgrew had shared with her something she could never have fathomed beyond her wildest dreams. Head Elf Engelgrew had shown her how elves do magic without wands. Hermione, as had all wizards, assumed that this magic was reserved for elves alone, but in fact, the lead elf shared that anyone can do magic pulled from the Earth - though, not as skillfully as elves. Elves had a relationship with the Earth that witches and wizards could never attain. That being said, Hermione did practice and learn how to develop and collect small bits of magic. The most was only ever a brief spark, but she had done it.

It took remnants of Earth to pull magic, and while there wasn't much in the prison cell, there was enough to start crafting the intricate designs in the sand, dirt and stone that led to magic collection.

While Hermione put her mind to work on make-shifting a plan of pulling magic, grabbing the wand, and planning her escape, she was determined not to believe it to work. If for an instant she felt any hope, excitement or joy, the Dementors would be back and it would be that much harder to get the magic to manifest.

A month had gone by and Hermione had worked and re-worked her plan. She had gone through everything hundreds of times, but knew that there was so much she probably didn't know. She had heard that there had been attempts to escape beyond just Sirius Black, but they had never survived the swim from the island to land. The crashing waves either crushed jumpers against the rocks or the crippling cold froze their lungs. On top of that, many a jumper's life was sucked from them by the Dementors before they even reached the water.

Hermione had gone through all the permutations, had rested as much as she could, and knew that she only had one shot at this.

She had practiced the magic collection a few times, and failed a few times, but on the fourth try she saw the familiar spark. She snuffed it out as quickly as she could as not to draw attention, but she finally got the sand and dirt and rocks in the right pattern to begin collecting enough magical energy to do what she needed it to. She didn't need enough magic to leave, she just needed enough to disarm the guard that would come for her.

Hermione tried to sleep as much as she could that night, but her shaking was not solely because of the bitter cold. She waited at the door, visualizing each step all day long.

By afternoon she heard the familiar steps of the guard ready to shove the slab of food into her room. She stood there twisting her hands in the form Head Elf Engelgrew showed her, and looked at the wand on his waist belt. Still not being able to talk well, and not needing it for this bit, she silently thought 'Accio wand' and as the guard moved on to feed the next prisoner, the wand flicked its way into her cell.

Her heart leapt. It had worked. There wasn't much time. This was the moment of truth. Casting an underwater breathing spell and a warming spell on herself, she started running toward the stone wall at full tilt. Then with a voice as loud as she could (that tortured her throat), she screamed.

"BOMBARDA!"

The wall of stone erupted outward and she flung herself as far as she could out following the rocks down to the crashing waves below. Her navel was flying up into her belly as the raindrops and salty water stung her eyes and stabbed every inch of her body.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" She barely got out. Her voice was going out again, but a glowing white light emitted from the end of the wand as dementors converged on her, trying desperately to reach her.

Down, down, down. She prayed to the gods that she would survive the fall. That she wouldn't end up a bloody ink stain on the rocks below. With another instant she disappeared in the torrential waves. Even with the warming spell the water stabbed at her. It whipped her back and forth as she desperately tried to keep hold of the wand.

Luckily, the underwater breathing spell allowed her to stay below the depths. She hoped long enough to make it far away from Azkaban. She swam for what may have been hours and the murky water was getting dark as the sun began to set in the sky. Finally after she felt she had swam far enough she made her way cautiously to the surface. Everything was black underwater and her body was about to give out.

Pulling above the now calmer waters she clamored for air, trying desperately to spell more warmth so that she didn't crack her teeth open from chattering. Her arms were about to give out, but with the darkening of the sky, evening lights nearby sprang to life.

She breathed a sigh of relief and nearly dipped under the water again, relishing how close she was to shore. After another twenty minutes of half floating, and half kicking her way towards the glowing lights of the town ahead, she felt the sand catch her.

She clawed her way out of the water. Her mind barely functioned. Before she passed out, she gave a gleaming inward smile. A momentary triumph before the next challenge. She was still a wanted person, still looked like Kovac, and she still had to find Vanya.

Normally doing this alone would scare her, but she wasn't afraid anymore. She only had one thought before she passed out in the sand.

I'm coming.