Hermione had a dream two days later of Alastor Moody standing in front of her in a small storage closet. His eye spinning around suspiciously. It was as though they had been underwater, the words exchanged were indecipherable. He had looked at her intensely as he said something, watching her reaction. She remembered feeling skeptical but determined. Moody said something else and Hermione shook her head. He nodded sharply and when he turned to leave he had been stone-faced. But his eye as he looked back had hesitation in it. Alastor never hesitated. After Alastor had gone she stood alone for several minutes.
She didn't know what the dream meant. She tried not to dwell on it.
Hermione explored the main wing of the manor. The portraits were apparently strictly forbidden from speaking to her. They watched her with a gimlet eye but never uttered a word. She explored the hedge maze until she could walk through it with her eyes closed. She couldn't quite manage anywhere else outdoors unless she crept along the side of the manor.
Open spaces were still very difficult. She couldn't even peel herself off the wall when walking down the larger hallways. And she could barely stand to set foot inside the ballroom in the main wing of the house.
After ten days Healer Stroud arrived again to see if Hermione was pregnant. Hermione was not. Hermione had been exercising aggressively in her room to funnel her rage. Healer Stroud was pleased to see the improvement in Hermione's physical condition.
The next day when Hermione entered her room shivering from her walk she found Malfoy there, waiting for her in full Death Eater regalia.
“Fancy an outing, Mudblood?”
Hermione stared at him, taking in what he was wearing. His face was an expressionless mask as he approached her.
“Did you forget?” he asked, his silver eyes flickering. “Two months. No pregnancy. The Dark Lord is eager to see you.”
He gripped her by the arm before she could back away and apparated.
Chapter End Notes
Additional Illustrations:
She was not there. She was brewing a potion. by _knar.m_.
"Are You Reading My Mind" by enselius.
She was brewing a potion by pic.arts
Chapter 12
The hall that Voldemort resided in was damp and warm like a reptile cage. Somewhere underground. The walls that she could see in the darkness were stone with no windows.
Far underground.
The air was thick and sour. Stale. Putrid with dark magic.
Hermione broke out in a cold sweat and Malfoy dragged her forward as she fought to escape. It wasn't a conscious choice. Every cell in her body screamed for her to get away.
Malfoy's hand on her was like a vice. She couldn't wrench herself free. He barely seemed to notice that she was writhing in his grip.
“My Lord,” he said with a respectful tone as he bowed. “I have brought the Mudblood. As you requested.”
His words were punctuated by Hermione's panicked stuttering breaths as she tried to quell her panic. A crushing weight suddenly bore down on her back and forced her prostrate upon the moist stone floor. She could barely breathe under the pressure and fought to drag oxygen down her throat as her jaw was ground into the hard floor. The sound rattled in her ears.
“Oh, yes,” Voldemort murmured in a caressing whisper. “Stroud mentioned she was not yet gestating.”
Hermione rolled her panicked eyes upward so she could see from where she was pinned on the ground. Voldemort was reclining in a large stone throne staring down at her indolently.
He waved a hand, it had dull scales on it.
“Bring her forward,” Voldemort ordered.
The weight crushing Hermione into the ground was released and two attendants pulled her up off the floor and dragged her up the steps of the dais, forcing her to her knees at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort didn't sit up. He turned his head slightly and wiped the corner of his mouth. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut but he drove into her mind. His mind inside hers felt like a branding iron. He was burning her. Damaging her. She was screaming and screaming until her lungs and throat gave out and she just shook in agony.
Hermione had not realised how much her shock from being removed the cell had dulled everything. She hadn't remember it hurting so much. Or perhaps Voldemort was feeling vindictive due to her lack of pregnancy.
It was like having her consciousness flayed.
She didn't know how long it lasted. Forever. She felt like she should have died several times along the way.
Voldemort tried breaking through the magic around her locked memories and when he finally gave up he proceeded to ravage all her recent memories. Her arrival at Malfoy Manor, the first time Malfoy raped her in his room. And the second time, and the third and the fourth and the fifth and the sixth. He made her relive all ten of them as though he were curious to see how Malfoy did it. Her panic attacks. Her conversations with Malfoy. Her limited interactions with Astoria. Her questions and suspicions and schemes. He pored over the months with excessive cruelty and curiosity.
He razed her mind until she hung limp. Her muscles too worn to even shake.
Finally he withdrew and the hands gripping Hermione allowed her to drop to the ground, spasming.
“You knew the Mudblood in school,” Hermione heard Voldemort say after a minute.
“Indeed, My Lord,” Malfoy said with a faint tone of derision. “One of Potter's favourites.”
“She dreams of your death quite desperately. More than she dreams even of mine,” Voldemort said with amusement.
“A sign that she has a sense of what is even possible,” Malfoy drawled.
Voldemort nudged Hermione with his toe. Her vision kept wobbling and then vanishing intermittently when she tried to focus. It wasn't darkness. It was as though her eyes didn't know how to see anymore.
“She is clever. I trust you are keeping her well in hand, High Reeve.”
“Of course, My Lord. You know I succeed in whatever you set me to.”
“Indeed,” Voldemort said. “It has been a long time since you have caused me any disappointment.”
“I am vowed to you, My Lord.”
“You are aware that she is dangerous,” Voldemort said and Hermione felt magic suddenly drag her up off the floor and she hung suspended as he stared at her, his face twisted with distaste. “She is lying in wait to find a weakness to exploit.”
“You have had her carefully caged. You know I will not fail you,” Malfoy said respectfully.
“I want her pregnant,” Voldemort said with a forceful hiss. Then, as though it were an afterthought, he added, “It concerns me that the Malfoy line is without an heir.”
“Of course, My Lord, Astoria and I have been careful to follow all of Healer Stroud's instructions,” said Malfoy.
“Very well,” Voldemort said, sinking further into his throne and dabbing the corner of his mouth again. “Return her to the manor then.”
Malfoy bowed and then gripped Hermione by her arm from where she hung suspended. The magic holding her released and she fell against him. He grimaced in obvious distaste and proceed to drag her out of the hall and away from the cloying, oppressive nest of dark magic.
When they were halfway down some hallway Malfoy shoved her against a wall and released her. She slid halfway down it and raised her shaking hands up to wipe away the tears crusting on her cheeks. She could still barely see through the blinding pain in her mind.
“Drink this,” he commanded, slipping a vial of a common pain relief potion into her hand. “Otherwise you'll black out when I apparate you and it will add considerably to your recovery time.”