January 21st

With a calm resignation to her fate, Hermione climbed out of bed, hastily put her shoes on, and began a search of the room for something to use as a weapon. It was not the first time that she had been confronted by danger while on the run and it was certainly not going to be her last. That is, unless it was her last and if it was, she was strangely all right with that idea. One could only run for so long with a plan that was nothing but keep running.

She couldn't be sure what time it was. Likely very late. Outside the moon was high in the sky and the unlit hotel room was pitch black. Only her experience skulking around in dark shadows allowed her to keep her calm until her eyes adjusted enough to see in the dark. There was nothing that could be fashioned into a suitable weapon anywhere in the room. That was a lack of foresight Hermione was sure she would remedy if she somehow managed to make it out of the predicament she was in. Maybe there was still hope that the noise she was hearing was an animal seeking shelter from the elements as well.

The sound of raised voices out in the corridor dashed all her hopes. There were at least two men outside her door based on what little she could hear. Taking several deep, calming breaths, she tried to remember the lessons she learned so long ago from Antonin on how to increase her awareness without casting a spell. As much as he preferred magic, he was pragmatic enough to understand there were times that one could not simply wave their wand about. His insistence that she learn more than just magic to hone her skills had been a surprise. She'd assumed that men like him were overly dependent on their wands. He certainly was fond enough of his to brag more often than was seemly.

Finding no suitable weapon, Hermione peered out the window to judge the possibility of being able to escape that way. Three floors down to hard pavement was an option she didn't care for, but in a pinch, she would take her chances. A quick tug on the window proved that wouldn't be a possibility. Only magic or one of those power drills would get the casement opened. She was trapped. Her only hope at that point was that the men wouldn't enter the room. Hating herself for the weakness she was forced to endure, she crouched down in the dark bathroom out of sight of the door.

She wished that there was some way she could use magic without getting caught. As part of the Dark Lord's plan to hold on to control in the country, not long after they were conquered, everyone was required to register their magic in his new puppet Ministry. There was a trace on every single witch and wizard regardless of their age or their status within the regime. Antonin thundered around his house the day he was forced to go, slamming furniture and knocking pictures off of the wall. He found it the ultimate insult that he wasn't allowed to be above the registry. When she made the unwise reminder to him that the Dark Lord's Death Eaters should have a better attitude about his new laws, he hadn't hesitated to punish her for her insolence… without magic, of course. The back of his hand striking her square in the mouth frightened her more than it actually hurt. Afraid to let him see the tears in her eyes, she covered her bleeding lip with her hand and ran out of the house. He'd apologized later when he was calmer but the damage had already been done.

In the early days of the Trace, several believed they could get around the restrictions by using unregistered wands. Those few powerful and disciplined enough tried to accomplish wandless magic. Azkaban's cells quickly began to overflow with the perpetrators. In hindsight, even the Dark Lord seemed to believe that maybe throwing a large portion of the population to the dementors hadn't been the greatest of ideas. The ones that emerged from the notorious prison with their wits intact became some of the most fanatic and dangerous members of the Resistance. Even after all of its time in power, the regime was still making mistakes.

Despite knowing the dangers, Hermione refused to be completely defenseless. A lot could happen to a woman alone in a dark room with strange men. She would risk everything to keep her body from being violated. More than once her path crossed those who would seek to overpower her for their own desires. Each time she left them cowering in pain. Or dead. There was a great deal about her life and actions that she knew she would one day regret. That wasn't one of them. She would never apologize for protecting her body. No woman should. So, fully prepared for the fact that she might be caught that night, she clutched the handle of her wand hidden in her coat pocket.

The door to the hotel room she was hiding in was forced open with a loud grunt. Chairs that Hermione had strategically placed behind the door crashed to the floor. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Heavy footsteps only meters away reminded her that she was trapped inside with no escape except past the new arrivals.

"What did I tell you, Dai? Someone's been in here. Look the bed's been slept in."

"All right. I'm sorry I doubted you."

Two men, clearly security guards and neither one of them younger than sixty-five, stepped further into the hotel room. Hermione could see them in the wash of moonlight from the uncovered window. Neither of them looked like bad men. She would hate to hurt them. There was an obvious reluctance for both Muggles to get any closer to the bathroom. Maybe they subconsciously knew that they were up against a force they couldn't defeat. She hoped they didn't have families waiting for them at home.

"No, you know the procedures. 'Look, don't engage'. Once we suspect we have a trespasser, we call for help."

Hermione sighed her relief when the Muggles exited the room moments later without discovering her hiding place. If they were on their way to call the police, she had a small window of time she could get out. She pressed her ear against the door to the corridor to listen for any nearby sounds. When she was convinced that the security guards were gone, she carefully turned the doorknob. No one met her in the empty corridor. No one met her in the stairwell. She had all but convinced herself that she was about to make it out of there.

Two steps into the abandoned lobby and she discovered how very wrong she was. Maybe she should have taken a better look at the buildings in the immediate area of the hotel under renovation before she chose it for the night. A nearby police station meant the Muggle night guards had help before she was even out of the building. She didn't even have a chance to fight before an officer grabbed her from behind.