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Love and War
Chapter Six

Escapism

It was eerily quiet. There were no screams, no thrashing, no distant sobs. The mice refused to squeak leaving nothing to echo off the dungeon walls. It was so silent George could actually hear the soft wind blow across the thin cell window but other than that there was absolutely nothing. Even the big bastard had not come that day.

It was as if a silencing charm had been cast, leaving George and Hermione with nothing but a blank soundtrack. Not that George wanted to hear the tortured screams above, or even see the fat masked Death Eater, but some indication that he was not going deaf would have been welcomed. And to top it all off, Hermione had not woken up yet.

George was alone and responsible for the witch he held in his arms. Every once in a while, he would shake her awake, helping the half-conscious girl take a sip of water and a bite of food, but Hermione would always fall asleep right after. She was so drained, so exhausted, and he blamed himself for not protecting her. The thunderous crashes from her session with the enemy still plagued his mind.

If only he fought harder, maybe then he would have been able to stop it. Maybe, he could have saved her. George was helpless, and with this vast emptiness, he was going crazy. He vowed that he would get them to safety but, his initial plan was slowly failing. The guilt mixing with the silence was driving him off into a place he never knew his mind could go, but he forced himself to reverse.

Still, he sent beacons, keeping them to a minimum of three. He dreaded Death Eater interception. It had been a day since Hermione's breakdown and adding the time since his arrival, meant two weeks of capture without a word from the Order. He had to start facing the possibility that help was just out of his reach. The more he thought about it, the more he came to understand the ridiculousness of his plan.

To assume the whole Order would barge through the doors just to save him was idiotically hopeful. It was not like he was Harry Potter, the golden boy, the only hope for you-know-who's downfall. The more numbers the Order had, the better of a chance they had against the growing army of Death Eaters. If the Order came here now, those numbers would be significantly smaller.

George just hoped that he could figure a way to get both him and Hermione out without magic. Hermione could not last that much longer down here, let alone another round of torture upstairs, especially after she let so much of her emotions out. She was much weaker now, and he could feel it as she pressed herself closer to him. All they had was each other. They were bound together now, this cell, this event, caused that. Even when they did get out of here, it was just the two of them and, to be honest, he was not that unhappy about it.

Of course, he was unhappy about being stuck in a dungeon, where all you were fed was grey slop and water once a day, and the only activity was torture, but he was glad that he was not alone. He was glad that if they got out, he could be there for Hermione. That should be she come to him; he could just hold her and not have to talk about it as she cried. Explaining this pain was not something that could be done, and he was sure Ron was going to try and pry it out of her.

Ron, his mind spat the name like venom, and he pulled her tighter. Knowing that Ron was the reason she was in here drove him mad. She was protecting Ron and Harry when she was captured. Ron was his brother, yes, and he was glad that Ron was safe, but George had to control his body from shaking with anger as he thought of him. Maybe, it was jealousy, or it was a sudden need to protect Hermione, but George was angry. George did not have a clue what he was feeling, but he did know that his younger brother for the reason this gorgeous woman laid broken in his arms. And when he saw Ron, someone would have to put him in a body bind to stop him from going postal.

A letter that is all Ron and Harry sent. She was captured, all alone, and just a letter. Ron knew what they would do to a Muggle-born witch. Anyone with less than half of a brain knows what they would do to a Muggle-born witch, especially one who was close to Harry Potter. George was surprised Hermione was still alive.

He brushed some of the hair from her face, unable to think of her not surviving. A stern determination blanketed his features as he watched her face scrunch in slumber; if Ron was not going to protect her than George would. He swore he would find a way to get out, and when they did, no one would ever harm her again. He pressed his lips to her forehead, and closed his eyes for a brief moment, taking advantage of the unexpected quiet.

The instant his eyelids drooped shut, the sound of footsteps boomed through the corridor and forced them open. George prayed for fatty to be coming with food, but after registering the soft click of boot heels instead of the heavy dragging he was used to, George prepared. Sitting up instantly, George placed himself in between Hermione and the door, waiting for whoever it was to appear in between the bars.

He did not have to wait long. Suddenly, very familiar platinum blonde hair was hanging through the cracks of the gated door. A steel expression unreadable behind grey coloured eyes which pierced through the darkness.

"You don't have much time," the youngest Malfoy said, before drawing out two wands, and sliding them through the cell door. Immediately, George crawled for them. He grabbed his own and Hermione's as he eyed Draco with suspicion. "They finally left, all of them except the snatchers. I've been waiting since Granger got here for this, but it never happened. I can lead you to the tunnel out, but I can't take you any further, or I'll be compromised."

George looked over at Hermione before his eyes widened in realisation. Draco Malfoy was a spy. Draco Malfoy was going to get them out and to the safety of the Order. This was their only shot, and he knew better than to dawdle. Giving Draco a quick nod, George pulled his sweater over Hermione, keeping her body warm, and slipped her wand into her jeans pocket. He gave her a shake, but when she just groaned a little, he knew her eyes would not open. He pulled her over to the cell door, waiting as Draco unlocked it, and carried her out into the corridor.

Draco led them through the dungeon maze quickly, coming to a stop in front of a white stone statue. Every sculpture they had passed in the house was somehow related to Slytherin House, except this one. Two ivory peacocks stood frozen before him, one with wings spread wide, and the other nestled at its feathered companion's feet. Draco tapped his wand on the taller bird, mumbling an unheard password before it revealed a secret passage.

"Take this all the way to the fork then turn left," he said quickly, helping George slip a backpack onto his shoulders. "There is a tent, food, and blankets to help you camp. Get out of the forest before you attempt to call the Order or they will know." George nodded again, wordlessly eying Draco for signs of treachery. "If they found out I did this I would be dead, so hurry up."

"Thanks," George whispered, and Draco nodded before placing himself in front of the entrance waiting for it to be hidden once more. With that, George made his way down the channel with Hermione placed securely in his arms. Each step he took led him closer to freedom, and all George could do was thank Merlin for answering his silent cries for help. When he looked back briefly, he saw the Peacocks hide his way, plunging the route in darkness. This was it; they would be free.

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