Wake up, sleepy redhead!

"Her-Hermione?" Ron grunted, slowly coming to.

Feeling like he'd received a hammer to the head, Ron needed to blink the pain away before he could open his eyes properly. His right hand was still clutching his wand as he lay on the floor, face-down against the cold stone. A metallic sort of smell reached his nostrils and Ron immediately knew that he was bleeding. The throbbing headache was a very good indication as to where from. He pushed himself up and his arms trembled slightly, as he stared at the small pool of blood where his head lay a moment ago. He felt dizzy, so he sat up and reached for his forehead. There was a deep cut just above his hairline and he hissed when his fingers ran over the length of it.

"Harry?" Ron called out, but his voice was still hoarse.

"What the hell happened to me?"

Ron tried to recall the moments before he woke up with his head busted open. However, his mind was still foggy and Ron stumbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

"Hey, Harry!" He tried again, shaking his head in order to regain clarity. He knew he had to apply essence of dittany to his wound, but reaching his best mate was imperative.

Suddenly, panic hit him like a ton of bricks as he recalled Harry going alone in the opposite direction and Ron dragged himself to the door. What if this whole thing was an ambush? What if there were no smugglers and Death Eaters were waiting for him and Harry to get separated so they could take him out and kidnap Harry? There were still fanatics out there who wanted him dead. The thought of Harry being in danger sobered him up immediately and he wiped the blood from his face, gripped his wand tighter and opened the door.

To Ron's complete and utter horror, the scene before him was nothing as he remembered it before he had fallen unconscious. He thought he had gone mad for a moment, but then he stepped out of the room and could feel his left cheek warm up from the torch on the corridor wall. It was real, very real.

Instead of a dust and rubble-covered dark corridor, Ron was met with a clean and well-lit one, with tapestries on the walls and an emerald carpet covering the floor.

"What the actual fuck?"

Nothing before him made sense, but he was sure that it was the same castle - it had to be. Deciding that he could discover what in Merlin's name was going on later, Ron closed the door behind him and headed to the opposite end. The last thing Harry yelled was something about a secret passage behind a portrait, so Ron set out to find that first. He had to start somewhere.

Moving along the wall for support and staying out of the light that the torches cast, Ron's eyes darted from one side to the other, taking in the decorum. It was eerie enough to remind him of Malfoy Manor with tapestries depicting a battle between wizards and centaurs, with a lot of them dead and bloody, then another group of wizards standing in awe next to a cloaked figure holding a handful of wands he was about to break, while the apparent owners kneeled at his feet and some other heinous scenes that made Ron turn his head in disgust. He was definitely dealing with the wrong sort of wizards here, no matter how bizarre this whole situation was.

Ron had almost reached the other end of the corridor when he heard muffled voices and footsteps ascending stairs followed by a loud thud. Hesitating for a moment, he took several steps back and leaned against the railing to look up at the second floor.

There was silence for a moment and then a commanding voice filled the air.

"Try that again, and you'll regret it, you filth! Move!"

Ron's breath hitched and the hairs on his forearms stood up. Whatever elaborate magic was involved for whatever disturbed reason - Ron was sure of one thing - some evil bastards had Harry and went through a lot of trouble to get to him.

Not willing to waste another moment, Ron jumped over the railing and jogged up the stairs as quietly as he could. When he reached the top floor, Ron was surprised to find a large open space instead of more corridors and doors. It resembled the great hall at Hogwarts but lacked the long house tables and altogether warm atmosphere. Ron hid behind a pillar at its entrance, his eyes darting around the room in search of Harry, but there wasn't a single soul in sight. They must have hurried through one of the three doors on the other side.

Ron took a minute to observe the place. The hall felt regal, with an appropriate air of arrogance lingering over it, colored in various shades of gray and green. The colors alone confirmed that he was dealing with Death Eaters, but the most alarming piece of evidence stood in the center of the room. It resembled a large cage with dark curtains pulled over its sides, and opposite it was a throne-like armchair. Ron had no desire to discover what type of horrid pet was kept in there as images of Nagini came to mind, so he moved in the shadows of the large pillars which held up a ceiling imbued with the same spell as the one at Hogwarts. His plan was to reach the other side and scout the west wing, but then he heard a commotion coming from the entrance nearest to the cage.

The heavy wooden doors flung open just as Ron managed to crouch behind another pillar with a better view, gripping his wand, ready to attack. The headache and pain mixed with worry and adrenaline held his body surprisingly steady and focused as he watched three figures emerge. Actually, one person was pushed through the door and fell hard, chains rattling and scraping as they hit the cobblestone, while the other two stepped over the prisoner as if he were dirt.

"Get up," said one of the men dressed in what Ron could only describe as the Death Eater version of Auror attire.

A vision flashed before his eyes - him in that same outfit - jeering, one eye eerily gray and one blue, but before Ron could make more sense of it, another splitting headache made him drop to his knees.

Ron didn't dare move, afraid he already made too much noise and would be discovered. The headache subsided after two long breaths and Ron looked up, the prisoner now at his eye level.

However, the captive was facing the floor, face hidden under a ragged hood. All Ron could see were his slim and bruised forearms covered in scars and open wounds around the wrists.

"That cannot be Harry", Ron thought.

The prisoner's arms were shaking, but he managed to push himself up. The chains swung from side to side, and he steadied his weakened body by gripping them, stopping the momentum that threatened his balance. Though unsteady, there was defiance in his stance as he faced the Death Eaters who walked ahead in lazy strides in almost perfect synchronization, pulling one heavy curtain aside.

"Come on then, come see him," the Death Eaters taunted with devious grins, and it occurred to Ron that only twins had the annoying habit of talking in unison. He would know, he grew up with a pair.

The prisoner took a step, then stopped to pull the hood off his head, revealing a cascade of short unkempt curls.

"No…" Ron whispered, "...not possible."

She was unafraid and determined as she slowly walked up to the cage, one hand reaching behind her ear, into her messy curls.

But Ron… all Ron could see was red.

Auror composure and tactics to hell; Ron jumped out of his hiding place, raised his wand, and ran directly at them.

She noticed him first, eyes wide with surprise as she took him in before her head snapped to the oblivious Death Eaters who were looking inside the cage. However, Ron's footsteps echoed in the large hall and it didn't take the Death Eaters long to look back and inspect who was approaching. Impulsively, they grabbed their captive's chains and pulled her closer, straightening their back, wands limp in hand.

"S-sir?" they muttered, brows knitted in confusion before multiple stunning spells hit them square in the chest. The force of impact tossed them back like rag dolls.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, not able to hide the horror in his voice, only steps away from reaching her.

Without even glancing back at him, Hermione caught her chains and ran to the exposed front of the cage, hitting the bars with such force that Ron had to cover his ears.

"Hermione! What are you doing?!"

She acted like a woman possessed, determined to get the attention of whatever was inside, and as Ron reached and grabbed her shoulders, he couldn't help but look inside too.

"Look at me, look at me!" Hermione yelled, "Please! Come to me!"

She threw Ron's hands off violently, then turned and swung the chains at him. Ron managed to move aside and metal hit metal with a loud clang. Hermione grunted and lifted her heavy shackles again, and Ron stepped back.

"Don't touch me," She sneered, her eyes darting from the bars to Ron who raised his hands in surrender.

"Hermione, it's me, -"

"Yeah, it's you alright, and I don't care what you're playing at, -"

Ron looked at her face - red and screwed up in anger when he noticed the white lines of various lengths scattered across her cheeks, the same scar tissue that covered her forearms.

"Who did that to you?" Ron asked in a strained voice, silent rage building up inside him.

Hermione scoffed in reply and glanced over her shoulders nervously, arms trembling from the exertion.

"You want another go, you sick bastard?! Come at me M-"

Hermione fell silent mid-sentence as they were both startled by pained moans coming from the cell. Ron looked at the source of the sound, then back at her.

"Listen, I don't know what's happening and why you're acting this way, but we need to get out of here. This hall will be swarming with Death Eaters in a matter of minutes!"

"Fuck you," She spat as she turned back to the cage, her hands clutching the bars, "Hey, you recognized my voice, didn't you? Didn't you, Harry? Come to me, please," She pleaded, reaching inside the cage.

Hearing his best friend's name drop from her lips made Ron move instantly and he grabbed the bars beside her, pushing his face between them, frantically scanning the darkness inside.

Two pale green eyes peered back - looking, but not seeing. Huddled in the corner sat the Boy-Who-Lived, looking barely alive. His long hair stuck to his face and neck, and despite the commotion, loud noises and Hermione desperately calling out his name, Harry did not move at all. His skin looked like it hadn't seen the sun in years - it was almost translucent, even in the dark.

Ron couldn't breathe, talk or move until Hermione hit him back into reality, and a searing pain overtook his senses - she had definitely dislocated his shoulder. He dropped to his knees, mind clouded with pain as he mutely watched her swing the chains again.

His ears were ringing and not knowing what else to do, he raised his wand just in time.

"Stupefy!"

Suppressing the urge to vomit, Ron scrambled back to his feet. He wanted to scream, to cry, and to fucking wake up from this nightmare, but he had to focus.

"Prioritize, prioritize, remember your training," he mumbled to himself before he bit his wand, grabbed his arm, and rammed it back into place against the cage bars.

"FUCKING FUCK!" He screamed out of pain and frustration, as he unclasped his cloak, and reached inside his potion holster. He downed half of the healing potion before he crouched next to an unconscious Hermione and poured the rest into her mouth. The shackles were real medieval prison chains, not the ones conjured by magic, so Ron examined them quickly, found the clasp, and carefully melted it with his wand until her hands snapped free. He hoped the potion would heal her marred wrists at least a bit before they reached safety.

They had to get out, he was in no state to duel one, let alone several Death Eaters. Ron moved her closer to the cage, then quickly approached the knocked-out Death Eaters. They looked barely of age, despite their tall built, with dark blond hair and high cheekbones that surely turned some heads. Ron took their wands and performed a memory charm, then hurried back to Hermione, stashing the wands inside his cloak.

Gritting his teeth to suppress the pain, Ron heaved Hermione over his shoulder, then looked up at his best mate. Harry's empty eyes were on him, unblinking, seemingly unaware that Ron even existed.

"I don't know what the hell is going on, mate, but I swear, I swear, I am coming back for you," Ron stammered, angry tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Dammit!" He kicked the bars in frustration, then leaned his head against the cold metal, "I can't carry you both," he said defeatedly.

With Hermione in his arms, Ron ran back from where he came, praying to all the gods in existence that there was a secret passage behind a portrait that would take him to safety in this completely mad world he was lost in.