"I think you may actually make a full recovery. Keep the lights low and apply Essence of Dittany every two hours during the day and an extra drop just before you go to sleep for the next two weeks. Do that, and I think there may end up being little to no long term impairment in your vision."
Hermione watched one-eyed as he stood and turned toward Malfoy, straightening his robes pompously.
"I must say, that's an exceptional little healer you've got there. When you told me what happened I was expecting she'd end up mostly blind in the eye. Sanentur spells are quite obscure and injury-specific. It's remarkable she had the presence of mind to distinguish that it would be appropriate for repairing that particular type of puncture."
"Quite fortunate," Malfoy said, his tone bland. "Is there anything else you recommend? I'm under strict orders to keep her in good condition. I don't want anything overlooked."
"Well — perhaps a cool compress. Essence of Dittany works best in the eyes when kept at a cool temperature. And — ah — um. Nourishing food. Chicken broths and the like. To help the body heal. She probably knows."
"Very well," Malfoy said, straightening and indicating toward the door of Hermione's room which the house-elves had repaired.
The healer looked down at Hermione again.
"Quite exceptional," he said again in a wondering voice. "Pity. Such a waste of talent."
"Hmm," Malfoy said noncommittally.
"And you, sir. Quite remarkable you could perform the spells so well. Very impressive collaboration. You could be a healer yourself."
"So I keep being told," Malfoy said with an insincere smile. "Do you think St Mungo's will still hire me after I murdered someone in their waiting room?"
The healer blanched. "Well — What I mean is—"
"If there's nothing else, I'll see you out," Malfoy cut him off and strode from the room.
Hermione spent most of the next several days in bed. A House-elf arrived every two hours with a vial of Essence of Dittany, watched her as she applied a drop to her eye, and then popped away again.
After four days, her vision within an arm's length was mostly recovered but, beyond that radius, things became blurry and it hurt to try to focus.
Malfoy did not appear again but Hermione thought she heard his footsteps in the hallway.
Then Healer Stroud came.
"You've had a rather unfortunate month, I hear," Stroud said, conjuring a medical table and waiting for Hermione to approach
Hermione said nothing as she went over and seated herself on the edge of it. Stroud pulled a vial of veritaserum out and Hermione opened her mouth and accepted the drop on her tongue.
Stroud cast a general diagnostic on Hermione and they both studied it. Hermione's eye was doing better. Her sodium levels were normal. Her cortisol levels were extremely high.
They were always high, but there was a marked spike in them.
Stroud sighed and wrote something in Hermione's file before casting a pregnancy detection charm.
Hermione already knew what the result of the charm would be. She stared pointedly at the clock on the wall. Her imbalanced vision meant she couldn't make out the numbers anymore or even the hands unless she closed her left eye.
There was a long silence. So long that Hermione finally looked back and found Healer Stroud had cast a more detailed diagnostic of Hermione's reproductive system.
Hermione couldn't make out all the readings clearly but she recognised enough to know that there was nothing unusual in it. She glanced up at Healer Stroud's face.
It was blurred but Hermione could still make out the familiar tensed irritation around the woman's mouth as she manipulated the diagnostic with her wand.
"You're still not pregnant," Stroud said flatly.
The words were both an accusation and a condemnation.
Hermione didn't flinch or even blink. Healer Stroud continued, "You're one of the only ones still not pregnant. And in the case of the others, it is because the — sires have issues of their own."
There was a pause. Healer Stroud seemed to be awaiting a defense.
"Perhaps the High Reeve has issues too," Hermione finally said.
"He does not. I examined him myself, several times now. He is perfectly virile and fertile. Exceptional even."
Hermione fought against letting her mouth twitch with amusement at the thought of Malfoy being examined by Stroud. He must love that, she thought to herself.
Outwardly Hermione was silent. Healer Stroud sighed sharply.
"How does he take you? Do you stay reclined after as instructed? Are you washing afterwards?"
The questions were suspicious.
Hermione felt her cheeks flush as she was compelled to answer the questions.
"There's a clock there on the wall. I always wait for the allotted time before moving. I follow all the washing instructions. The portrait can verify it."
Healer Stroud's eyes were narrowed.
"And how does he take you?"
Hermione stared intently at the blurry clock until her head began to throb.
"On a table."
"What?" Healer Stroud said sharply.
"He — he conjures a table, in the middle of the room. And has me lean over it."
"He takes you from behind?"
Hermione felt her cheeks and ears growing hot. "Yes. He's very — clinical about it."
"How many times a day?"
"Once a day. For five days."
There was a long silence.
"Well—" Healer Stroud finally said. Then she leaned over and tapped her wand twice on one of the manacles on Hermione's wrists. There was an immediate flush of heat.
A minute later, there was a sharp rap on the door and Malfoy walked in, looking as cold as Hermione had ever seen him. She could just barely make out his face as he walked toward Healer Stroud. She closed her left eye in order to try to see more clearly.
"You called," he said.
"She's still not pregnant," Healer Stroud announced.
Malfoy looked neither surprised nor disappointed by the announcement.
"How unfortunate," he said coolly.
"Indeed. It's beginning to become anomalous. There is nothing I can find to account for it."
Healer Stroud's eyes were narrowed as she stared at Malfoy.
Hermione's curiosity was suddenly piqued. Did Healer Stroud suspect Malfoy was trying to avoid impregnating Hermione? Was he? Why would he? He should have been desperate to get her pregnant. If not for an heir, at least in the hopes that the compatible magic would finally corrode and break through the magic protecting Hermione's memories.
"The Dark Lord may have reason for concern if she continues to be unfruitful. As you know, his desire for it is dual in nature."
"Indeed. I am aware." Malfoy said, a dangerous edge entering his voice.
"Then you should have no objections if I make some recommendations as to how to increase your odds of success."
Malfoy inclined his head. "Anything in the service of the Dark Lord."
"No more tables then," said Stroud in a pointed tone.
There was a flicker of something, possibly irritation in Malfoy's eyes.
"Fine.
"And have her in a reclined position," Stroud said, raising her chin, "with less detachment."
A sneer curled onto Malfoy's lips, but before he said anything Stroud added, "Magical pregnancy is more complex than merely the biological process of fertilisation. It can require a connection. Otherwise, we could be utilising muggle methods for this repopulation effort with far greater convenience for everyone."
"Really? Do all the other pregnant breeders you have attribute their conditions to the connection they have with the sires?" Malfoy drawled.
"She is exceptional in her magic, as are you," Stroud said, her expression stiff. "According to some theories, such power causes the spark of life to require more — persuasion. Unless there's some other explanation you can offer."