The Diary: Reveal the Lies
Summary: The war has been won, but instead of it being Harry who is the last to stand, Lord Voldemort is ruling the world, and Hermione is struggling to cope. But what if she was sent back in time, way back in time to change it all?
Introduction: This will be a Travelling-through-time story, though it will have a twist that has slipped my mind for the moment, but it will come back, I promise! I am sorry if you do not find the prologue satisfying at all, and feel free to express your thoughts, because I'd love to improve and write better. But yeah, that's really all that I have to say. Also, more will be revealed – obviously – in later chapters. Can't let you read all the goodies yet, can I?
Prologue – November 1999
The room was small, and both the walls and floor were made of stones that had darkened with age and bodily fluids. Hermione sat in one of the corners, curling her thin fingers around her knees as she rocked back and forth, back and forth against the wall. Her back scraped against the rough ridges on the surface, but her body did no longer react to pain the same way it used to.
You should fight, fight against those monsters and free this world from the Dark Lord.
She rocked back and forth, back and forth.
Think of Harry, your best friend who sacrificed his life to save the world.
Her hands gripped her knees tightly enough for bruises to form.
People die every day because they fight, and you know it. You cannot escape.
Tears dribbled down her face and curved around the edges of her mouth. The salt burned her chapped lips and she tried to wet them with her tongue, but it was fruitless. She had gone without water or any kind of liquid for... How long had passed?
Do you not feel weak, lying here in this cell and letting them do all sort of things to you?
"SHUT UP!" She gripped her hair with her hands, as if ripping it away would make the voices go away.
"Please."
You beg, and you weep. Do something; do not just sit around doing nothing.
She could only hear the voices inside her head, and this did not make her aware of the footsteps heading for her door until she felt herself getting hauled up roughly and dragged out of her cell by her wrist, the grip so tight on her that she felt the bones snap and she cried out weakly.
"Aren't you a pathetic one, Mudblood?"
Yes, aren't you pathetic? Whimpering and stumbling after some Death Eater when you could be out there, fighting for the cause.
The walk seemed to drag on forever, and for each step that Hermione took, she walked more sluggishly, fearing that this would be her last day. The air seemed to be tingling with some unknown power, and it could only mean that they would dispose of her.
Do something, before it is too late!
Thrown through a door, she could do nothing to prevent from landing harshly on the floor, her already broken wrist bending backwards as the bones poked through the skin. She cried out in pain, for it was the worst she had felt in a long time for it was not imagined.
"Aw, did the poor Mudblood hurt herself?" The man leered at her as he stepped forward, his black cloak fluttering down as he shrugged it off his shoulders. For every step he took towards her, he discarded a piece of clothing and Hermione tried to scramble away, screaming as loudly as her dry throat could take.
"No, please don't! I'll do anything if you only let me go, please!"
You would do anything? You are a bloody idiot, you are.
"Sounds tempting, but I'll not be swayed from my purpose here." The rag that had been wrapped around her body was ripped away, leaving her stark naked as the man kneeled down beside her and almost tenderly brushing her dirty hair back. She almost relaxed, her body immediately reacting to such gentle strokes so she was not prepared for the hand landing on her cheek and her head flew to the side. The skin burned and itched as blood rushed to her cheek and tears slipped down her face, the salty water doing nothing to soothe her ache.
Cold hands travelled over her body and she shivered as they brushed over her private parts – not in desire, but in fear and disgust.
Punch him, like you punched Malfoy!
Suddenly her insides were being ripped apart as something big and hard was pushed inside of her, and a scream involuntarily ripped through her throat and it only made her cry harder.
She was rocked back and forth on the floor, her naked back getting stuck on the wooden floor as she sobbed, clawing on the man's back as she tried to get him out of her, and to stop him from continuing to violate her.
It seemed to never end, she thought until suddenly something rushed into her womb and she started to wriggle underneath him even harder, trying to avoid what had already happened. With a grunt he lifted himself off of her, and she could hear the rustle of clothing as he dressed and the slamming of the door as he left. She lay there for a while, trying to find a reason to rise up again.
'He has taken the last of me that I had left to give.'
Legs and arms trembled as she rose up, and she cried out when her lower abdomen ached and before she could prevent it, she threw up what little she had in her stomach, and dry-heaved a couple of time out of pure reflex. She tried to stand up, but her legs gave away and she slumped down on the floor again, only now noticing the little bits of skin stuck to the wood.
She stared at the pattern they made for a while, thinking of how ugly and grotesque it looked as she absently reached her hand behind her back to feel the small welts and tender spots on the flesh and she knew that those nude-coloured bits were from her back.
If only you had escaped, you could've avoided all of this.
"I know." She whispered dejectedly, clenching her hands as she banged the floor, more tears escaping and a small whimper slipping through her lips.
You could've fought, and maybe... Maybe you could've won this.
"Not without... Not without..." The name wouldn't come out, her heart screaming in anguish as she thought of her best friend. "Not without him, I couldn't."
So you gave up, huh?
"Talking to myself, am I?" A dry laugh was all that she could produce. "Guess those Cruciatus curses finally got to me."
A wry smile flitted across her face.
Brightest witch of her age my ass! You have to fight, and win this once and for all!
"I can't! Accept it; deal with it because I am not you!"
It was intended to be a scream, but her voice was too hoarse, and it didn't even sound like a whisper. She let her head fall to the floor and she lay there for hours, letting the voices wash over her and fade away, only to come back again. Her hand was curled beside her head, and occasionally she banged it against her forehead, trying to banish every thought because they hurt so damn much and she didn't want to be in pain anymore.
All she really wanted was to forget it all and wither away.
Darkness fell, and along with it, Hermione succumbed to it as well, the only thought she could make up was:
It hurts because it's his voice, Harry's voice.
A/N: So, I have decided to rewrite the story now, finally! Cookies for me, ne? Ah, pardon me, but I am tired, it's soon five a.m and I am about to shower and head off to the airport. I hope you like this new prologue, and that you can patiently wait for the first chapter to come up after I get back home from my holiday.
Oh, and you might've noticed that I changed the title. Previously called Respice, Adspice, Prospice.