Manacled

12

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."

She swallowed it, fairly certain he wasn't going to poison her.

"Did that ever happen to you?" she found herself asking, when the pain began easing so she could speak again and his face slowly swam into focus.

Malfoy eyed her for a moment. "More than once," he said. "My training was rigorous."

She nodded.

"Was that after fifth year?" she asked looking up at him. The pain seemed to fade somewhat when she focused on the question.

"Yes," he said it in a clipped tone.

"Your aunt?"

"Hmm," he hummed in confirmation, his eyes narrowed.

They were both staring at each other intently. He felt like the only thing she could see.

"Not the only thing you learned that summer," she noted. His eyes widened incrementally.

"Are you needing a confession for something? Should I tell you everything I've done?" he asked in a careful drawl. He drew closer so that he towered above her.

She forced herself not to shrink or cower down further than she was already slumped. She stared up into his eyes. A question rose to her lips and she felt somehow that it was vital that she ask it.

"Do you want to?" she said.

He stared at her as though he were considering something. Then his eyes grew flinty and he stepped back.