Drabbles Chapter 2: No Way Out, a harry potter fanfic

Author's Notes: This is a part of my very first draft of my story "Healing", which, as you can see below, originally started much earlier than the published story does. With hindsight, I'm glad I shortened the beginning because too much of it was just copy/paste from the book, but I'm rather fond of this part, so I dumped it here for your enjoyment. Ah, and I see that my habit of avoiding contractions in the narrative parts was not yet developed when I wrote this. Oh, well.

Rating: M, mostly for language, though it might not be all that bad. I'm paranoid.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish.

No Way Out

Her tormented screams were ringing in his ears as he raced around in the dark, damp room, frantically searching for a hole or marking or hook or loose brick in the raw stone walls... anything that might indicate at a secret passageway, but as far as he could make out in the dim light of the orbs from his Deluminator, there was nothing.

Ron kept running, stumbled, almost fell to the ground. 'There has to be a way out, there's gotta be a way out,' he thought to himself as he picked himself up. Accumulating all this willpower, he tried to focus hard on Hermione, and turned on the spot. He knew that it was probably pointless. Surely, Ollivander and Luna had already attempted to Apparate out of the cellar, but as long as there was still a little hope left, he didn't, couldn't leave any stone unturned.

It didn't work.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, panic rising inside him. He tried it again, focusing on the salon, on the floor above them, on just anywhere but this cursed dungeon, but be it because of his lack of a wand or any anti-Apparition jinx lying on the room, it was no avail.

"There's no way out, Ron. The cellar is completely escape-proof. I tried, at first. Mr Ollivander has been here for a long time, he's tried everything," [1] Luna said. Ron wished she would shut up. He didn't want to hear this confirmation, shattering this last tiny bit of hope. He slammed his forehead against the cold stone wall and banged his fist against it in frustration.

Then there was another scream, and it made his blood run cold. Frozen solid to the spot, his breath becoming fast and shallow, he raised his head and his panic completely overcame him as he heard Bellatrix' voice, loud and clearly and distorted with rage.

"What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!" [2]

"HERMIONE!" Ron yelled from the top of his lungs as he could now hear her let out one horrible scream after another, hoping beyond hope that calling her name would magically bring him to her, or stop her pain, or make her tormenter draw back, or just... something... and tears welled up in his eyes as he continued to bang his fists against the wall to let out the irrepressible energy created by his seething terror, half hoping to tear down the wall by doing so, so hard that the edges of his hands burst open. He barely registered that Harry was agitatedly speaking behind him. The only thing his mind was set on was Hermione. Hermione, the love of his life, in agony, tortured, possibly driven into insanity just like Neville's parents and ultimately killed and fed to that bastard son of a bitch Greyback, all just one floor above him, and there was nothing he could do about it, caged up in this fucking shithole of a dungeon!

'No, this mustn't happen,' he thought to himself as he carried on yelling her name in desperation, his entire body shaken with dread. Hermione couldn't die, mustn't die, not tonight and definitely not like that! He couldn't bear the thought of Hermione being dead, he couldn't, didn't want to live if she was no more. Upstairs, Hermione was still screaming, and with every scream of hers, his desperation, fear, anger and feeling of sheer hopelessness grew, tearing up his heart, drowning him. In between all this, the memory of his offer to Bellatrix to take him in her stead flashed up in his mind and in his despair, he realized that she eventually had gotten him as well - by torturing Hermione, she was simultaneously torturing him, too.

"How did you get into my vault? Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"[3] he heard Bellatrix screech.

"We only met him tonight! We've never been into your vault... it isn't the real sword! It's just a copy! Just a copy!" [4] Hermione responded, her voice choked with sobs, and somewhere inside Ron's chest, a little spark of hope suddenly lit up. Hearing Hermione speak in that voice was unsettling, but her ability to build coherent sentences meant that she was still conscious... and sane...