She woke up to a blinding headache, her skull throbbing incessantly. It wasn't a new feeling. It was protocol, stunning prisoners, before taking them to Azkaban. The idea was to prevent them from knowing where it was, but she was Hermione Granger. Did they really think she hadn't studied Azkaban's blueprints, structure, location and practically all that she could when Sirius had escaped back in third year? She knew the place inside and out. The Restricted Section had a surprising number of books on Azkaban, tucked away in hidden corners and shelves.
A sharp jolt of pain broke her out of her thoughts. The Aurors ignored her discomfort, gripping her forearms like vices. They walked up a flight of stairs, Hermione still a little groggy, and turned around a corner. The jeers and cries of the prisoners around her followed her, an unescapable army just waiting to tear her apart. They were in the maximum-security section, the cells lined along the corridors filled with only the worst criminals – and unfortunately for her, Death Eaters. She knew from the whispered conversations and hidden notes going around whilst she was awaiting her trial that Antonin Dolohov, Augustus Rookwood, Evan Rosier, Thorfinn Rowle, and Lucius Malfoy were only some of the monsters on this floor.
The Aurors kept marching her on, until they finally stopped in front of Cell 26. It was small, barely eight by eight feet. Three of the sides were made up of grey bricks, with the front using two-inch thick bars as a means of containment. The cell held a small cot tucked into the corner – no blanket or pillow – along with a small shelf attached to the left wall, and finally, a toilet – if you could call it that. It was practically a bucket with water inside. The floor was made up of rough stone, and the only light was from the small window at the top of the back wall, lined with bars. Other than the broken, flickering overhead lights in the corridor, the window was her only means of light, sun and view.
The clanking of keys sealed her fate, and Proudfoot shoved open the cell door. The stocky Auror dragged her into the cell, slamming the door shut. Entwhistle grinned at her as he twisted the keys in the lock, ever so slowly reattaching them to his belt.
"Welcome to hell, sweetheart." And with those parting words, they left, leaving Hermione alone to drown in the deep abyss of grief and anger and sadness that had consumed her world ever since the Battle of Hogwarts.
She had never had the time to truly grieve in the aftermath of the war. It was all just… over. And then she was being dragged away, shoved into a cell and awaiting trial. It had all happened so fast.
I never even got to say goodbye. Because she hadn't. Not really. Not to all those fierce, brave souls who had died defending Hogwarts. Remus, Tonks, Fred, Minerva, Lavender, little Colin Creevey. All those people, all those innocent faces. Gods, she could still see them. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the bodies, the smoke, the fire. She heard the screams and the cries. Heard the silence.
And she remembered. She remembered seeing Remus and Tonks share those secret smiles when they thought no one was looking. She remembered Fred's carefree laugh as he unleashed hell upon Umbridge back in fifth year. She remembered those moments when she and Minerva had hidden up in her officed and just talked about everything and nothing. She remembered the six years she spent living in the same dorm as Lavender. She remembered sitting with Collin after his petrification, helping him catch up on his classes. She remembered sitting with those young Gryffindors when they had fallen into the Black Lake. She remembered studying with those Ravenclaws, just reading in a comforting silence. She remembered the massive snowball fight she had with the Hufflepuffs. And she remembered just listening to those Slytherins when the world became too much.
All those little things, those little moments. These hidden memories that she would forever treasure and protect. Because she would rather die than let their sacrifices be in vain.
Don't let that light go out. She had only been sixteen that day at Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Harry had just left, slamming the door after ripping into Ron and herself after a summer apart. She had hidden away in the library, determined to keep her composure. But for some reason, she just couldn't. And everything she had been dealing with the past five years had just roared up in a massive wave, and that's when she started to drown.
That was how Sirius found her, curled up in a ball in a small nook in the back of the dusty library.
"Hermione? Are you in here? Dinners ready." She ignored him.
"Hermione? Come on, Molly's waiting for us." She didn't care. It didn't matter.
"Herm–oh my gosh, Hermione! Are you alright?" Sirius rushed forward, quickly taking in the sight of her tearstained face and red-rimmed eyes. He crouched down next to her, gently lowering himself down until he was sitting next to her. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and slowly pulled her so she faced him.
"Hermione talk to me. What's wrong?" He had an inkling – after all, how could anyone not have heard the screaming match between the trio. But he also knew that Hermione wasn't the average teenager. She wouldn't break down like this over some fight, no matter how intense.
"They're dead." Her hoarse voice broke the silence.
"What?" Sirius said, "Who?" His mind was whirling. Who could have possibly died? It couldn't have been a magical person, or he would have known. It couldn't be her family – Dumbledore had ensured the Order that they had had the appropriate protection. A muggle friend, maybe?
"My parents. They're dead. They're dead, and it's my fault." Sirius gasped, flinching with genuine surprise before asking, "Oh Hermione. God, that's not your fault. What happened?" Because it was impossible. There was no way Death Eaters had gotten to them. Dumbledore had set up the protective enchantments himself.
"I couldn't–I tried to stop them but… It all happened so fast. And then they were screaming, and he was laughing, and… Oh god, they're dead! They're gone. They're gone, and I couldn't save them, and–" She suddenly just started crying, tears streaming down her face as she desperately tried to hide them in the crook of her elbow.
"Hey, hey. It's going to be okay. Hermione, just take a deep breath." Sirius turned and fully encompassed her in a hug, saying nothing as she cried into his shoulder. Minutes passed, and he could see Hermione try and build herself up. And it scared him to see how quickly that mask of cool indifference appeared on her face. It was almost like she had hidden all her emotions away, locked them up so tight that they only came out when she let her defences down. And that didn't sit right with him. She was still a child, goddammit. Just a child, and yet she was already a part of this war. He had once read somewhere that innocence was the first casualty of war. How right that was.
"It happened just before I got the letter from Dumbledore inviting me here," Her voice seemed to echo in the quiet library, "We had just finished dinner, and then suddenly they just appeared. Three of them, all of them in black robes and masks. I didn't have my wand on me because of that stupid law about underage magic. But I shouldn't have needed it!" She sounded angry now, removing herself from his arm and standing up. "He promised. He promised that they would be safe. And then they weren't, and no one came when I called. No one came." Her eyes darkened, and he could have sworn her hair started crackling with her fury. "We were alone, and they were so scared. They were so scared, and I couldn't help them. Dumbledore was supposed to be there! I took out two of them with stunning spells." Sirius gaped. Wandless magic? Hell, he knew she was the Brightest Witch of Her Age, but she was still only sixteen. He couldn't do wandless magic. He paused his thoughts as she started pacing,
"But I couldn't stop the last one. He just killed them. Two words and then they were gone. And I couldn't save them because I was too slow, and too careless." She stopped, and just stood still. "It was mt fault." The words were whispered, so quiet that he wondered if she had actually said them.
"Darlin', why didn't you tell anyone? You've been here for weeks." He knew that was the wrong thing to say when he turned to face him, her face dark with rage.
"Oh yeah, and who would I have told? The man who let my parents die? Or, I know, the people who had let me defend myself against a bunch of murderers? Or maybe my two 'best friends' who have never asked me about my homelife – or really, anything about me at all. So, tell me, Sirius, who would I have told?" He was silent. How could a girl so full of light have such a horrible thing happen to her? Or maybe he didn't understand, because he saw something on her face. Something dark and cruel. And he knew that she was spiralling. But he would not let that happen.
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. But, Hermione, believe me when I say this, I will always be there for you. But I need you to promise me something, alright?" He allowed a small smile at her wary nod, "Don't let that light go out."
Don't let that light go out. Words that she had lived by for two years. Words that she would never forget, much like the man who had said them.
Hermione stood up. She had gone through so much in so little time. But she had never, never, let it break her. In comparison, Azkaban was nothing.
Let them try, her mind screamed, let them try to break me. Because she was Hermione goddamn Granger, and she would not be broken. The world had no idea what it had unleashed. She as not the type to forgive and forget. Hell, no.
She swore to herself then, swore with every part of her being that she would get out. Get out of this hellhole, and live.
Yes, she thought, watching the sun slowly rise from her window, I am getting out of here.