He shoved stacks of his own personal, annotated potion texts into her arms to read and drew up maps of where to forage for her own ingredients when there would be few sources to buy from. In the middle of the night and early in the mornings he took her with him all over England. He would apparate from location to location to teach her how to find plants and harvest them so that the potency stayed high. He taught her how to build snares and catch and humanely kill the animals and magical creatures needed for potion ingredients.
He didn't even say anything when she cried after killing her first Murtlap.
He had trained her until she qualified for a Potion Mastery.
She had been his staunchest defender during the war.
Charlie Weasley grew to hate her for siding with Snape over almost anyone else. She'd defended Snape's methods and everything he did as a Death Eater as being necessary. She'd protected him when Harry and Ron had wanted to have him removed from the Order.
She'd considered him more than a colleague or mentor. He had been someone she had trusted implicitly.
It had all been a ruse. A clever ploy. Without Dumbledore to vouch for him he had cultivated a new champion for himself. Twisted her around his finger by being generous with his knowledge. He'd bought her loyalty with a potion mastery.
Then, once victorious, he'd cast her off. He'd had a chance to spare her from being included in the breeding program and he'd declined. He had departed for Romania and left her to be bred.
To be raped.
It was such a bitter and deeply personal betrayal she could barely bring herself to think about it.
She got up and read the newspaper.
Chapter 16
It was the middle of February when Dolores Umbridge was killed during the attempted assassination of the Minister of Magic.
A statue of Voldemort was being unveiled at Hogwarts prison to memorialise the Final Battle. Warden Umbridge was standing on a dais beside Minister Thicknesse while Thicknesse gave a speech to the prison guards, reporters, and a handful of ministry officials in attendance. As the ribbon cutting commenced, a crossbow bolt emerged from the Forbidden Forest, passed through the prison wards, narrowly missed the Minister and buried itself in the centre of Warden Umbridge's chest.
She did not immediately die. Shards of a necklace and the shaft of the arrow slowed the bleeding. The guards, being ignorant of barbed, medieval weaponry and basic medical sense, wrenched the arrow out. Then she died instantly.
The attempt on the life of the popular three-term Minister of Magic sent shock waves through the British Magical community. The Resistance terrorists had been regarded as wiped out. To have them re-emerge in such a spectacular manner brought chaos and had Death Eaters, dressed in full regalia, out in force.
Voldemort took the attack as a personal insult.
Montague's visits to the manor abruptly ceased. Astoria floated through the manor looking wan and paranoid. Hermione heard her shrilly asking Malfoy about exactly what kinds of protective wards were on the Malfoy estate.
Malfoy, when Hermione caught glimpses of him, was constantly dressed in something that appeared be a combination of combat gear and hunting clothes. He regularly returned to the manor covered in mud and looking pale with rage.
Hermione was thrilled.
She read the news coverage obsessively. The papers trumpeted loudly about how it was a failed assassination attempt, but Hermione considered Umbridge's death far more appropriate than the intended target. Thicknesse was little more than a puppet. Umbridge's sins were her own.
But the satisfaction of retribution was insignificant compared to the relief of learning that the Resistance was still alive. Hermione spent half an hour crying from sheer joy. She found herself feeling unexpectedly hopeful for the first time in a long, long time.
The knowledge gave her a light step for days afterward.
When Healer Stroud came to see Hermione, her irritation that Hermione was still not pregnant became plainly visible. She cast a series of spells on Hermione and studied them thoughtfully.
"Well, your sodium levels seem to be improving," Healer Stroud finally said after several minutes of silence.
Hermione stared at the clock and said nothing.
Healer Stroud rummaged through a medical bag and pulled out a large flagon of a purple coloured potion.
"Drink all of this," Stroud commanded.
Hermione automatically brought it to her lips even as she blurted out, "What is it?"
Healer Stroud waited and didn't answer until Hermione had drunk the entire flagon.
"Fertility potion. It shouldn't be necessary but I'm out of ideas. You're not going to enjoy the side-effects I'm afraid and it's going to increase your likelihood of multiple births."
Hermione felt the blood drain from her face and felt as though she might fall off the exam table. The flagon slipped from her hand and shattered. Healer Stroud promptly banished the shards of glass.
"Expect breast swelling and tenderness, headaches, mood swings and swelling in your lower abdomen. It may also result in sensitivity to heat and cause your anxiety to re-emerge," Healer Stroud said as she added extra notes to Hermione's file. "I'll inform the High Reeve."
Hermione swallowed and bit on her lower lip as she stared determinedly across the room at the clock.
Malfoy did not appear that day to inspect her memories. Hermione wasn't surprised; she had already anticipated it.
Voldemort. Every other month until she was pregnant.
When Malfoy arrived the next day he looked tired and angry. He didn't say a word as he gripped her arm and apparated with her into the twisting tunnels leading to Voldemort's Hall.
The Hall was even warmer and stank of rotting flesh. Hermione started gagging as soon as she took a breath. Malfoy seemed immune as he pulled her forward and knelt down, dragging her onto the stones beside him. The floor was damp and sticky, shimmering faintly.
The room was almost pitch black, only a few distant sconces provided any illumination. There were no other attendants or Death Eaters present that Hermione could see.
"The Mudblood, My Lord," Malfoy said.
There was a long, slow sibilant sigh from the darkened dais and Voldemort's scarlet eyes suddenly appeared.
"Bring her forward," Voldemort said after a moment.
Malfoy pulled Hermione forward and up the steps before pushing her down onto her knees. Hermione stared in revulsion.
The throne Voldemort had been seated on before was gone. He was instead reclined across an enormous nest of pythons that were all twisted together into the vague shape of a chair. They were entwined beneath him, undulating lazily.
Voldemort cocked his head to the side and ran his spider-like fingers lightly over his chest as he studied Hermione thoughtfully.
"Ssstill not pregnant," Voldemort said in a menacing tone.
"Unfortunately not, My Lord," Malfoy said, his voice apologetic. "However, as you will see, the mind healers were correct that time alone is sufficient to begin recovering her memories."
Voldemort gave an irritated sigh and a python head emerged from the moving mass of coils and rested on his lap. Voldemort lazily caressed the snake and sank further against the sliding coils beneath him.
"Hold her," Voldemort ordered.
Malfoy's knee lodged itself between Hermione's shoulder blades and his hands wrapped around her jaw, holding her head in place. Hermione shook as Voldemort's scarlet eyes stabbed through her own and into her mind.
Hermione could feel Malfoy's hands wrapped around her throat and jaw as she shuddered with pain. It felt as though Voldemort's legilimency was a blade tearing through her mind. She screamed through her teeth.