Chapter Seven

September 1, 2003

Multiple Protests In Front of Ministry of Magic Considered A Security Concern

At least half a dozen small protests have taken place in and around the Ministry of Magic's London Headquarters since the introduction of Minister Umbridge's plan to correct the magical birth shortage. Though no one has yet been seriously injured in these blatant attacks against our hardworking government officials, the Minister for Magic and her staff have expressed their concerns about their occurrence.

"My number one priority has always been to provide a solution to our dwindling magical community," Minister for Magic Dolores Jane Umbridge stated outside of her office Tuesday. "Those who are in direct opposition are clearly simpleminded idiots who do not wish for our society to…"

Two months into the program that turned his life upside down, Antonin was settling into some sort of routine. His clothes were fitting tighter on his lean frame. No longer was he the gaunt, starved scarecrow he was when they first arrived. Regular meals and potions had changed him into a version of himself he hadn't seen since before he was chucked away in Azkaban the first time. There were times that he almost felt like he was that same young kid he'd been before the Dark Lord was bested by an infant.

Life in the cottage wasn't always easy. A sort of truce had cropped up between him and the witch that shared his bed. Though he was convinced a day would never come when he actually liked the girl, he was becoming less and less annoyed and frustrated by her presence. There had even been a few times when they were able to laugh with each other. And it wasn't even at the other's expense! They were decidedly small steps towards perfect harmony within their fucked up home and artificial familial unit.

After taking her to the beach, she had been able to leave their house a few times on her own. Never for very long, of course, but it was still progress. She had never asked him to take her back to the beach. Somehow he doubted that she ever would. There was a great deal of pride in her and he suspected that she was embarrassed by the manner in which she clung to him as they sat on the sand and stared out into the ocean. He could understand her fear, how she felt so tiny and insignificant next to the massive body of water. What terrified her beyond measure gave him strength. He felt rejuvenated every time he stared out on the water and realized how tiny and insignificant he was. Funny how everyone was different.

Knowing that she would never ask, he'd been the gentleman and offered. He'd lost count the number of times that they made the same trek to the sand to stare out at the waves. When she was braver, he took her to different parts of the island. Part of the fear she had of the open spaces after so long cooped up in the tiny prison cell that had been her home for several years would always be with her. Just as he still felt the crushing fear of being trapped in tight spaces. Or how he still feared bursts of icy cold air that reminded him too much of dementors. Winter would never be his favorite season. The moment they were released from their prison, he planned on going somewhere it was always warm. South America maybe. Or Africa. Somewhere he didn't have to see snow or feel ice or freezing rain ever again.

They weren't the only couple on the island experiencing problems. Only days after they made their first trip to the beach, he walked in on the Weasley girl visiting Hermione in their living room. Hannah and Thorfinn were nowhere to be found. Either out exploring or sleeping from the exhaustion of their constant and vigorous lovemaking. Antonin rolled his eyes at the thought. It wasn't fair that they were happy when the rest of the prisoners were miserable.

He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. Truthfully, he didn't much care for what her little mates had to say when they came to visit. Too often they came to bother her with questions on how they were going to get off the island like she was some kind of infallible deity with all of the bloody answers to all of the world's fucking problems. He usually had to resist the urge to pick them up by their collars and pitch them out the front door with warnings they'd get worse if they came back. She was always so upset when they left. As much as he might not like the girl, he hated when they made her upset more.

The Weasley girl spoke in hushed tones about her partner in the program. Antonin wasn't surprised to discover that Lucius had not been handling their change in circumstances well. He'd always been a bit weak, too soft. Only his father's wealth kept him out of Azkaban the first time. They were able to grease the right palms to get him off with false claims of being under the Imperius Curse. He was devoted to his wife. While certainly not a bad trait or something to sneer at, his devotion had become a detriment to his survival.

She spoke of how the wizard cried the entire time they were intimate the first time. How she had to practically force herself on him and how it was a tedious, difficult chore for both of them. They were in danger of being unable to fulfill the terms of the program and she was terrified. Antonin felt sympathy for the girl. Redheads had never been to his personal taste, but he imagined the two of them would have much more fun than he was having with Hermione. Maybe they would've even been able to enjoy themselves. Somehow he got the impression that he would never experience that with the bushy haired agoraphobic in bed next to him.

Antonin rolled over to get a look at the woman he was chained to for the next countless years of their lives. She always seemed so peaceful in her sleep, like there were no cares in the world. It was the time he liked her best. Mostly because she didn't speak. He almost wished at times that they could go back to those first two weeks when they didn't talk at all to each other. Yes, it had been awkward, but she didn't annoy him nearly as much.

There had been something different about her in recent days. He couldn't be certain exactly what it was. Something subtle, but still noticeable to the man who had the arduous task of being her partner in the fucked up program designed to steal their future babies. They spent more time with each other than they did with anyone else.

She seemed to tire easily. Most of her days were spent in bed. Worried that she might be ill, he tried to check her temperature with the back of his hand. She'd swatted him away and told him to leave her alone. Despite her repeated assurances that she was perfectly fine, he wasn't convinced. The Healers that had come to examine them after they arrived explained in as few words as possible that it would take some time for the witches to get pregnant. As much as they might have liked it to happen immediately, they didn't expect any of them to get pregnant for at least the first two or three months. Imprisonment and starvation took a lot out of a woman's reproductive system.

Not once had she been sick. He remembered his mum had terrible morning sickness that she claimed couldn't tell time throughout all of the pregnancies she had. Once he got an ex-girlfriend pregnant when they were young and careless. Almost immediately she would throw up any time he even brought up the very idea of meat. Though she ended up miscarrying the baby to their mutual sorrow, she had been violently ill in the very beginning. But, he was an intelligent enough man to understand that not every woman experienced the exact same symptoms as other women when they were pregnant.

Much was always made about a Mother's magic. Antonin knew that a Father's magic was just as powerful in a different way. It took them both to create a baby capable of producing magic. To ignore the contribution of the wizard wasn't always fair, but it happened frequently. Careful to not wake her up, he reached across the bed to place his hand on her stomach. Though it hadn't changed much since she was allowed to have three meals a day, he wanted to feel it.

He could feel the additional heartbeat with his hand. The magic that the child inside the woman next to him was alerting its father to their presence. He didn't know much about Muggles and how they knew they were pregnant, but with witches and wizards, it was almost always the father that knew first. He could usually sense a new life within his witch's womb.

It should have been a joyful time. It should have been a time that he was anxious to wake her up to give her the news that they were expanding their family. No matter how unplanned pregnancies were, they usually were wanted. In a perfect world, he would shake her awake with a bright smile on his face to tell her how their lives were about to change for the better. As much of a cold, dangerous man as he was purported to be, even he had dreamed of a moment similar to the one he was experiencing. Children were blessings. They were proof that the entire world wasn't shite and there was goodness in it.

He didn't wake the witch. Any news he gave her wouldn't be met with cheerful tears and excited whispers about the future. She would know soon enough that she was carrying a child that would one day be ripped from her arms and given away without her permission. Antonin let her sleep just a little longer with her ignorance of the coming storm.

The next morning came quickly, long before he was ready for it. Antonin knew that he couldn't keep the secret much longer. It was wrong to hold back such personal information. If there was one person alive who deserved to know, it was the woman who was actually carrying the baby. As terrified and angry as he was about the situation, at least he knew it meant they were one step closer to their eventual freedom. He hoped she would feel similarly.

Resolved to steal a private moment with her after breakfast, Antonin picked at his eggs with an uncharacteristic lack of appetite. When they first arrived and began to be regularly fed, he made a promise to himself that he would eat every single morsel placed in front of him whether he was hungry or not. The idea of his body, which had always been on the leaner side, ballooning up until he was fat amused him more than he was willing to admit. What was the point in keeping fit anyway? He had no battles to fight, no women to woo.

"What's wrong with you?"

The shrill resonance from the witch on his right made Antonin forget all about how he was planning on gently breaking her the news of her pregnancy when they were alone. Thanks to the rudeness of her tone, he considered blurting out his suspicions in front of the the other couple just to make her angry. She wouldn't appreciate her privacy being violated like that. But, his good sense prevailed. He didn't want to start another argument. They'd had enough of those since they started talking again. If they were able to make it through the entire program without murdering the other, it would be a miracle.

"Nothing is wrong with me."

She wasn't convinced. Just as he prepared himself for the onslaught of never-ending words from the obnoxious chit's mouth, the front door to the cottage opened abruptly. All four of the residents were seated at the table and no one in their fucked up village just barged into another's cottage without knocking. They might have been prisoners, but they still had some manners. Antonin spun around in his chair to tell whomever it was to fuck off over his shoulder.

The words caught in his throat. Three wizards and one witch dressed in official robes with the Ministry's insignia stood in their doorway. Two Aurors and two Healers, if he had to guess. Immediately, they began barking orders. Hannah and Hermione were to go immediately into their respective bedrooms alone. Thorfinn rose to his feet prepared to physically fight anyone who forced his witch out of his sight. Two wands in his face and a gentle touch of Hannah's hand on his cheek was necessary before he calmed.

Antonin could understand the other wizard's frustration. Knowing that Hermione was carrying his child put him especially on edge. The wizard and the witch dressed in the Healers' robes disappeared into his bedroom only moments after Hermione. One of the Aurors entered the room leaving the other outside with the prospective fathers-to-be in his sights.

In the exact opposite manner than it had the night before, time passed so slowly that he feared he was in danger of losing his sense of reality. Though he'd had years to perfect sitting patiently and waiting, he was frustrated. If the Auror didn't have his wand held in front of his body daring the two criminals to attack, Antonin might have even thrown open the door to find out what was happening.

It wasn't unexpected to have Healers visit their cottages. Some warning would have been nice. Just one more reminder that they weren't free. Barging into someone's home without invitation or warning could get them killed or at least jinxed on the mainland. No one from the outside world had come by the island since they arrived. If the house-elves enslaved by the Ministry hadn't been arriving dutifully with their meals three times a day, he would have been tempted to believe that they had been forgotten by society at large.

After an eternity, the door to his bedroom opened up again to allow the pompous Healer out. The witch, clearly his much younger assistant, lingered behind for several moments to speak in hushed tones with Hermione. From the crack in the door Antonin could see that she was crying. There was kindness in the witch with the long, blonde curls. A pat on Hermione's cheek with her palm and then a short hug from the Assistant Healer seemed to help calm her just a bit.

"Healer Clearwater, I'm waiting!"

It wasn't difficult to decide that he detested the main Healer in charge of the care of the women. The young Assistant Healer rushed out of their bedroom to meet her boss in Hannah's room. Antonin caught her blue eyes with his for the briefest of seconds. They were watery and on the verge of overflowing. The girl would need to get over her emotions if she was planning on making it long in the position she had.

He considered remaining outside with Thorfinn to help keep him calm. It was bad enough for him with Hermione and he didn't even like the girl. What kind of fear Thorfinn must have been experiencing had to have been much worse with his obvious love for his witch. Deciding that he could handle himself, Antonin left him to enter his bedroom.

Hermione lay on top of the blankets on their bed with her unfocused eyes staring at the window. She had been crying. Her left hand rested on her still-flat stomach. There was no question that she knew about her pregnancy. Imagining how gruff and uncaring the Healer had to have been when he delivered the news made him want to go next door and kill the cretin with his bare hands.

"Hermione?"

"I'm pregnant."

He sat on the edge of the bed. She didn't even blink or look up.

"I know. Last night, I could… I could feel it."

She turned her eyes from the window to look up into his. Anger and sadness welled up within her to the point he worried they would both drown. This was what they were supposed to be doing. They knew that this day would come. Why was it so much harder than they dreamed?

"I thought I might be a couple of days ago, but I didn't want to know."

Before he could say another word or even reach out to brush away some of the tears that were falling freely from her eyes, Hermione rolled over on the mattress to get off the bed. She was out the door of their bedroom and through the front door moments later. Worried that she was going to run off and do something foolish, Antonin rose to his feet to follow. A flash in front of the window stopped him from going any further.

She was sobbing in the street. The Weasley arsehole, the one who was forced to bed his own brother's wife, wrapped his arms around her back to pull her shaking frame against his. Wanting to place his hands around the wizard's throat, he exited his bedroom with a fury and rage consuming him. They might not even like each other, but that was his witch carrying his child. What right did he have comforting her? That was his job.

Antonin crashed into the Assistant Healer in his haste. Frazzled by the interaction, she patted at her hair and pulled on the lapels of her robe. He muttered out an apology. She smiled nervously and assured him that no harm was done. It was a foolish woman that wasn't unnerved by finding themselves in his presence. At least she was beginning to show some sense.

"Everything looks all right with Hermione's pregnancy. I mean, with Prisoner 923's pregnancy."

He didn't expect to get any information from an official with the Ministry breeding program. Based on the low tone she used, the Healer wasn't expecting to tell him either. Already gone further than she was likely allowed, she stepped closer and lowered her voice further.

"She's going to be just fine, Mr. Dolohov. They both are. I promise."

Her announcement and the small, friendly smile she granted him were enough to almost drag a smile out of him. Clearing his throat, he nodded his head once. Hermione reentered the cottage moments after the Aurors and Healers exited. She spent the rest of the day in bed. He spent the rest of the day walking up and down the beach.