Luctor Et Emergo
Struggle And Emerge
To myself. Because I've always wanted to read this story.
"Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
Dylan Thomas
Author Note: Hiiiii! I am so obsessed with a dark AU Dramione pairing, and I'm really hoping I can write an interesting story with their chemistry. I will be attempting to write a mature, dark, and at some point, uncomfortable storyline, so please, please read this at your own discretion.
I know what it's like to crave a good Dramione fic, so I'll try to do y'all justice. Cheers!
Chapter 1
Drip, Drip, Drip
Hermione felt more alive when it rained. Not that she knew what the weather was like outside or that it was rain that caused the dripping or if she still existed on a physical plane. She just convinced herself that the water was from the outdoors leaking into her underground cell. It helped her hold onto her sanity just a little bit longer. It was a mantra that reminded her that this cavernous, pitch-black doom wasn't airtight. Counting the plunk of the drops and calculating the length of time between each droplet gave her the mental stimulation she so desperately craved.
When it wasn't raining, when it was silent, when seconds felt like hours and hours felt like days, that's when she'd desperately search the surfaces of her cell. Of course, she wouldn't find anything to free her…or end her misery.
But alas, solitude is enough to make anyone irrational.
In the beginning, she had tried to keep track of time by counting every second she was awake and making a mental note every time she reached 24 hours. It was rudimentary. Her count would pick up on the hour she left off when she slept.
The counting stopped when she reached almost a year and a half. After that, she didn't want to have the pain of hoping they would ever release her.
The Dark Lord had requested Hermione brought to him for inspection three times since she was captured. The first time, Hermione walked in with disgust on her face. Her temper flaring, she screamed and yelled strings of profanity at him. Unsatisfied with the results of her solitude, he crucioed her in the same manner that a cat would play with their food before making the kill, throwing her back into the abyss after her vocal cords became shredded and her nose and ears trickled blood.
By her count, she was brought back almost a year later for a second inspection. She didn't speak or make eye contact this time. Voldemort had asked the two dark wizards who brought her up to beat her within an inch of her life and break "all the important bones." He had a smile on his face as her body was dragged back to her cell after his second inspection. Her knees and were shattered, her collar bone was broken, her face was a mess of bruising and brokenness. It had taken months on bone regrowth potions daily before every bone was fixed. They couldn't have her damaged too much for her future auction.
He watched her break further and further, each time he inspected her. She wasn't sure how much longer she would recognize herself. Hermione was already far cry from the girl who fought with her friend against the most evil wizard to walk the Earth.
Now, she couldn't even wield magic. Her hands numbly ran over the twin scars running vertically along the underside of her forearms, the raised scars stretching from her wrists almost to her elbows. She had been hopeful at the time that the blood loss would kill her. But it seemed fate had a much crueler destiny for her in mind.
Before they locked her magic away, they'd kept her wrists in chains that prevented her from using her magic. After the Dark Lord's experiment was successful, they didn't even bother retraining her.
Drip, Drip, Drip..54,337..54,338..54,339
The steel door at the entrance of the dungeon screeched open on rusty hinges causing Hermione to squeeze her hands over her ears at the violent disturbance of the silence. The light from a lumos blinded her engorged pupils. Arms ripped Hermione out of the corner she'd been huddled next to, and drug she stumbled to her feet like a deer learning to walk for the first time.
After months without light, she couldn't keep her eyes open even in the dim stairway lit with candles. Once they were outside the charmed barriers, they apparated to Voldemort — she could tell the all-too-familiar reek of rotting decay.
She was thrown at the front of his feet, landing on her hands and knees.
"Hermione, how wonderful to see you," purred the Dark Lord in his sickeningly snake-like voice. "I see your guards have taught you well. You're already in my favorite position."
She felt bile rising up in her throat and couldn't hold back the vomit that she heaved up, barely missing the incarnation of evil's feet.
Her heart was beating in her ears — she was sweating and shaking. She may have pissed herself in fear of what was to come as punishment.
Instead, she heard laughter in front of her. Confused, she squinted her eyes open, letting the light sting her eyes.
It was... Voldemort? He was laughing?
"Why mudblood, I think you're finally ready for your public debut."