She needed to run by yunna.fanfiction.
If you get lost in the hedge maze by yunna.fanfiction.
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Malfoy watching Hermione by flyora.
Hermione running by flyora.
Chapter 8
Repopulation Efforts Underway!
“Potter's Mudblood is among the first surrogates chosen by the Dark Lord to increase the magical population.”
Hermione read on.
The first phase of the British repopulation efforts have now begun. Eligible half-blood and Mudblood surrogates have been assigned to many of Britain's most eminent wizarding families in the hope of improving the Wizarding population. The assignments have been personally approved by the Dark Lord himself in consultation with Healer Lydia Stroud, who has spent her career specialising in magical genetics and wizarding fertility.
Most notable among the surrogates is Mudblood Hermione Granger, last surviving member of the terrorist cell known as The Order of the Phoenix. The witch has had a reputation from a young age for her romantic associations with famous wizards. This was particularly notable in 1994 with not one but two Tri-Wizard competitors, Harry Potter and Viktor Krum. Now she may have found her way into the bed of her most powerful wizard yet.
Draco Malfoy, most renowned for his assassination of Warlock Albus Dumbledore at the tender age of sixteen, has long been an esteemed Death Eater. The Prophet has confirmed with several sources that surrogate Granger was delivered to Malfoy Manor just over a week ago. Since Lucius Malfoy abdicated his title of Lord to his son following the death of Narcissa Malfoy in 2001, the family line has been without a succeeding heir.
Unfortunately young Lord Malfoy cannot become too attached to the traitor warming his bed. When she has produced three Malfoy heirs, Healer Stroud confirms that surrogate Granger will be transferred on to another pureblood wizarding family in order to further aid in diversifying Britain's magical blood.
If the results from the diversification efforts are as successful as anticipated Healer Stroud hopes that such efforts will begin being rolled out across wizarding Europe within a year…”
So, Malfoy was the one who had killed Dumbledore. Another name on the list of those murdered by the High Reeve.
Lucius was still alive somewhere.
There was no mention of the other women in the breeding program. Hermione's eyes raced across the other columns, gathering up every scrap of information.
The next column listed executions within Britain that had been performed by the High Reeve. There was a picture. Several wretched-looking men and women on their knees upon a platform. Behind them, in black robes and an ornate mask, stood the High Reeve. In the picture, he drew his wand and, with a casual flick, killed the first person. He barely spared the falling body a glance before casting a second curse on the next person. The picture's loop was only a few seconds long, but Malfoy killed three people on the platform before it began again.
Hermione stared. Taking in every detail.
Knowing that it was Malfoy made it obvious that it was Malfoy. The casually elegant posture. The indolent casting. The deadly coldness that seemed to radiate from him.
However, neither the article about the repopulation efforts nor the column regarding the executions made any reference to the fact that Malfoy was the High Reeve. As though the title and its bearer were separate.
The anonymity was surprising. The newspaper didn't even offer any speculation regarding the High Reeve's identity. As though it weren't permitted to print such a thing.
Hermione mulled over that detail.
The High Reeve was Voldemort's right hand, ostensibly his representative. Hermione wondered if the anonymity was in Voldemort's interest or Malfoy's. She suspected it was likely Voldemort's. The Dark Lord had an exceptionally powerful puppet. Even Voldemort himself, when he killed Harry, had not cast the killing curse with such rapidity and lack of effort.
It wouldn't do to allow Malfoy the opportunity to gather his own followers, accumulate personal power, and then try to overthrow his Master. Forcing Malfoy to keep himself anonymous behind his title — only allowing it to be known by Death Eaters and other trusted servants — it was probably a means of controlling Malfoy.
Voldemort was keeping Malfoy quite close.
Perhaps Malfoy had secret ambitions that Voldemort worried about.
It also made Malfoy the perfect trap for Resistance fighters. If anyone tried to save Hermione, they would assume they were simply attacking a pampered, second generation Death Eater. They'd have no idea they were walking into the grasp of the High Reeve, Voldemort's most infamously deadly servant.
Hermione skimmed through the rest of the paper. Northern Europe was still not under Death Eater control. Voldemort was moving aggressively to bring the Scandinavian countries to heel. Apparently the vampires, hags, and other Dark creatures that had been brought to Britain during the war had been moved up into Northern Europe during the last several months.
There was no mention of the insurrection in Romania. No mention of any known members of the Resistance still fighting.
Pius Thicknesse was still Minister of Magic. There was a Tri-Wizard Tournament planned for the upcoming year. Several pages were devoted to international Quidditch matches. Apparently the diversion of sports retained its appeal even under dystopian regime.
The rest of the paper was composed of society pages.
Astoria Malfoy was quite the socialite. She attended every event, bought tables at charities, and donated lavishly to post-war memorials. Malfoy was largely absent from the society pages, only occasionally joining his wife.
Hermione read every word, including the advertisements. Looking for any hints. Any subtext. Anything that might be unspoken but implied.
If such things were included in the news, Hermione was too ignorant of current events to detect them.
Finally she refolded the newspaper carefully with her stiff fingers and returned it to the place it had been abandoned on the veranda.
She massaged her freezing hands as she hurriedly made her way up through the manor.
She was, surprisingly, not having a panic attack by wandering back by herself. Perhaps it was only because she was so distracted by the cold. She crossed her fingers and hoped.
The route back to her rooms was simple. The moment she returned, she rushed into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. She let it run over her numb hands until feeling gradually seeped back into them and the water stopped feeling hot. Then she turned on the taps of the bathtub and drew a warm bath.
She sank into the water with a sigh, relishing the relief from the cold ache throughout her freezing body. She rubbed her feet and ankles until the last bits of grime disappeared from them.
After living in a cell for so long, she was never going to take being clean for granted again. She didn't know if she'd ever get over the newfound thrill of sinking up to her neck into a large quantity of water. It was the one and only high-point of her existence currently.
The same could not be said for the food. Which, although clearly expensive in its ingredients, was intended to be solely nutritional. She didn't know much about pre-pregnancy diets, but she didn't see why she was only allowed to eat unsauced, unsalted, and over-cooked vegetables, rye bread with unsalted butter, and boiled meat and poached eggs (also without salt.) She would kill for a bag of crisps.