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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.

It was slower. Instead of hot, blinding agony it was a gradual, more insidious pain. The kind that sank into the bones and the recesses of the mind and lingered.