Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret, lost but hidden in her mind, so she is sent as an enslaved surrog...
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.
Voldemort lazily tore her memories to pieces; like a cat, amusing itself with its prey. She hadn't known such a thing was possible. Bits and pieces of things he regarded as insignificant he destroyed just to feel her react. Her memory of folding origami while her parents debated eastern mysticism, her discovery of the Granian in the stables. He shredded them into tiny pieces as though they were paper.
She felt them go...tried to hold on to them as they faded away, but they slipped away until the agony in her mind made her forget what she was reaching for.
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