A/N: Ahhh, the sweet and delcious hatred of Umbridge lifts my spirits. Thanks ever so much to all of you sweet and fabulous darlings who take the time to comment when you read. Your kind words are the only praise I get for the effort that goes into these chapters and stories. Your words of encouragement mean the world to me and really do make me write faster. Much love! xx-Kitten
Jailbird Blues
By Kittenshift17
Chapter 2
"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione exclaimed when she was hauled into the examination room at the hospital, still being forcibly escorted by Aurors Proudfoot and Entwhistle.
The Hogwarts medi-wtich looked up from the chart she was reading with a wide smile of greeting.
"Hello, Hermione," the matron greeted her kindly, "That will be all, gentleman. I can take it from here."
"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Proudfoot argued, "But she's a lifer who just committed murder in front of the entire Wizengamot. I can't leave you unprotected."
"Percival Proudfoot, this girl has been my charge since she was eleven years old and would never harm a single hair on my head," Madame Pomfrey retorted, narrowing her eyes dangerously on the wizard, "You two will exit this examination room right this minute or I will personally see to it that your mother's hear you've been interfering with hospital matters."
Hermione smiled widely when both Aurors paled at her sharp tone and her threat to tell their mothers on them.
"We'll be right outside the door Ma'am. If you need us, you just call out," Entwhistle offered graciously and Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Ma'am, I must insist. She's dangerous and unhinged. She performed blood magic in the courtroom – without a wand."
"She's one of my children and she would never harm me. Hermione Granger would never harm a member of the esteemed Hogwarts staff."
"She just brutally murdered Madame Umbridge, a former colleague of yours, Poppy," Proudfoot argued with the witch further.
Hermione's smile widened even more when Madam Pomfrey actually laughed as though he'd told a joke.
"Oh, you delightful girl," the witch said, moving forward to cup Hermione's grimy cheek affectionately, "Now then, Percy. Had you been paying attention, you'd have noticed I said 'esteemed' members of staff. That wretched cow was nothing more than a vapid imposter who deserved whatever my dear child did to her."
"You're a medicine woman! How can you show such disregard for human life?" Proudfoot argued with the witch and Hermione got the feeling there was some unresolved sexual tension between the Auror and the Healer.
"Human life is sacred. I am not, however, convinced that Dolores Umbridge was human. In fact I'm rather inclined to believe she was a particularly nasty breed of enlarged and poisonous toad. Now get out of my hospital room before I smack you," Madame Pomfrey hissed at the man, shooing him forcefully and going so far as to shove him right out the door.
The man continued to protest leaving her alone with a homicidal teenager right up until Madame Pomfrey closed the door in his face.
"I think he's rather protective of you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione smiled at the witch when she turned back to look at her.
"Oh, you poor girl," Madam Pomfrey said, waving away the comment without speaking of it, "What has Azkaban done to you?"
"Actually most of this was from before they locked me up," Hermione admitted, "Being on the run with no access to nutritional food will do that to a person."
"Oh, dear," the medi-witch sighed, shaking her head sadly, "Let's start by getting you cleaned up, Miss Granger. Into the shower behind you there, please."
Hermione blinked when the matron waved her wand and the chains binding her hands and feet fell away with a loud clanking. Doing as she was told, Hermione stripped out of her tattered and filthy prison robes before stepping into the shower. The reality of her situation and the fact that she'd just been sentenced to life in prison hit her rather hard. Though not so hard as the warmth and heat of the water that cascaded down her back and over her head.
The warmth was so foreign to her that Hermione actually cried out, trying to dance out of the way of the water.
"I know it takes a few minutes to acclimatise back to the feeling of being warm, Miss Granger, but rest assured you won't spend quite so long between showers again, dear. Get clean as quickly as you can."
"They've sentenced me to life, Madame Pomfrey. I hardly think they're going to afford me showers every day."
"Every three days in the minimum provided to lifetime inmates of Azkaban Prison, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey told her, "You will be forced to bathe every three days. Just as you will be afforded two solid meals per day and a snack in between."
"But I've been sentenced to life," Hermione said blankly, not understanding.
"Did Sirius Black never tell you about his stay in prison, dear?" Poppy asked her.
"Not really. He didn't like talking about it."
"The use of Dementors meant most prisoners went mad and didn't actually know the circumstances of their incarceration. However, by law the Ministry must provide habitable living facilities, access to the ability to bathe and enough food to keep you alive. It might not be very wholesome food – mostly bread and water – but they do feed you and bathe you. With the Dementors dismissed and banished from their posts, you will have human guards, the likes of which can be found outside this room," Madame Pomfrey told her.
"They didn't give us any of these things while I was waiting to be tried," Hermione argued, scrubbing at her skin with the sponge and the soap within the shower, grateful to the chance to wash the grime and filth from her skin.
"Yes, well, they haven't handled things very well with so many people locked up, so many needing to be tried. Those awaiting trial dates aren't afforded the same rights – a deterrent for the innocent against committing crimes again, and a punishment to the guilty before the sentence is handed down. As a life-time prisoner, they mean to make you suffer and pay for you 'crimes' dear. That means they don't want you to go dying on them any time soon," Madam Pomfrey told her, "You'll have a monthly healthy check as well. As I am the only healer to ever have seen to your care, you will see me monthly, my dear."
"Madame Pomfrey, what do I do?" Hermione whispered to the woman when she climbed out of the shower, naked and dripping from head to foot but clean once more. She didn't bother cringing or trying to maintain any modesty with the medi-witch.
The healer had seen and examined every inch of Hermione more times than she could even remember. She wasn't concerned to have the healer see her breasts when she'd poked around her vagina in the aftermath of Dolohov's curse during her fifth year. She accepted the towel the woman handed her and went about trying to dry herself. Her hair was a mess. She's managed to wash it thoroughly with shampoo and conditioner, but she hadn't been able to untangle the bird's nest it had become.
"You allow me to examine you, is what you do. I'm also going to have to try and do something with that hair of yours," the woman told her, "You're not going to like some of the things I've been instructed to do to you, dear, but it's necessary."
Hermione held still as the witch performed diagnostic charms upon her, discovering her to be malnourished but otherwise unharmed. The sores on her wrists and ankles from her chains were healed with a salve. The cut on her lip received the same treatment and the Healer handed her phial after phial of potions to improve her overall health. She talked to her all the while, explaining the process, telling Hermione about the potions to boost her immune system, to help keep her warm, to help ensure she wouldn't develop any deficiencies after her current iron deficiency was cured. She also plied Hermine with information of all that had been going on in the world while she had been in Holding; the result of people's trials, the state of Hogwarts as the repairs began on the castle, the political climate and how everyone was scrambling as they tried to put the world to rights once more.
"I do also need to remove the body hair, Hermione, dear," Madam Pomfrey told her, nodding her head to the growth upon her legs and her privates, in addition to under her arms.
"Why?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows, "Won't it help keep me warm? Those cells are freezing."
"It would, yes," Madame Pomfrey sighed, "But it has to come off. Ministry orders. I'm afraid, my dear, that there are a number of things I'm horrified to have to share with you, but I must do so."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, watching the witch begin to smear hair-removal potion over most of Hermione's body while she held still. While she waited for it to take effect, Madame Pomfrey made sure she was given food to improve the cramping, gnawing sort of ache in her stomach from the lack of nourishment. She had to start slow on broths and bread soaked in broth, but it was better than living on mushrooms.
"There are a number of clauses that would allow you an early release, Hermione," Poppy whispered, leaning in to speak softly to her as though afraid of being overheard in their empty room, "The one most easily achievable being that, if you fall pregnant whilst incarcerated, you will be remanded to a guarded ward here at St. Mungo's rather than inside the prison. At the culmination of the pregnancy, you would be re-assessed, health wise and your psychological state would be examined for your ability to be a mother and functioning member of society once more, and likely be released on parole to raise your child."
Hermione's eyes widened at the very idea. Both because being a criminal shouldn't qualify anyone to still raise a child, and also because the idea of needing to fall pregnant in prison was beyond ludicrous. She was only nineteen, for Merlin's sake!
"Now, in the past this particular clause has been forgotten because the Dementors effectively dulled all sexual urges from prisoners or guards," Poppy whispered, "But without them, you are in very real danger inside that prison, Miss Granger. You will not be allowed to shower separately from your fellow inmates, despite there being precedent in the guidebook for it. Nor will you be afforded privacy within your cell. And they have put in place a nasty system of surrounding each prisoner with people from the opposite side during the war. Meaning that the cell directly opposite yours, in addition to the cells either side of yours, will be filled with Death Eaters. They will all be able to see into your private space. They will see you naked every time you take off your clothes or change into fresh ones. The will see you using the loo. The will see every little thing you do, if they refuse to avert their gazes."
"I'll literally be surrounded by Death Eaters?" Hermione asked, her face paling at the very idea.
"Yes, and from what I've seen of the cell-layout that's in place, the current overseer of the lifers in Azkaban is rather vicious. Poor Neville is in a cell directly opposite Rabastan Lestrange - the man who tortured Frank and Alice into insanity. Seamus is currently residing across from Amycus Carrow - the man who beat him and tortured him throughout all of last year at Hogwarts whenever he had the chance."
"Oh no," Hermione sighed, "You think I'm going to be next to people who will make me the most uncomfortable?"
"Yes," Poppy nodded.
Hermione ran a list of Death Eaters through her head that she disliked most. The most obvious one that came to mind was Antonin Dolohov - the man who'd almost taken her life during the battle at the Department of Mysteries. The one responsible for the long purple scar marring her torso from her collarbone to the opposite hip. The one who's curse still affected her every month when she got her period unless she took a series of potions Madame Pomfrey insisted she take. The one potentially responsible for the fact that Hermione might not be able to conceive. Her fingers trailed to her scar of their own accord.
"Dolohov is currently in prison serving a lifetime sentence too," Poppy nodded her head, seeing the direction of her thoughts as a result of her actions, "As is young Mr Rowle - you recall him from your first year at Hogwarts, I'm sure?"
Hermione paled at her words. Yes, she recalled Rowle. It was a little known fact that Rowle had almost killed her during her first year. She had caught him receiving oral sex in the library and tattled on him, naive twelve year old that she had been. He had been merciless in his torment of her for the rest of the year. Pushing her around. Taunting her. He'd hurt her more than once. He'd pushed her from a moving staircase one the second floor and Hermione had plummeted the long drop to land in a crumpled and broken heap at the bottom. He'd avoided expulsion only because all of his friends has vouched that he'd been nowhere near her at the time, and that she'd tripped over her own shoelaces - which Rowle had hexed together.
Very few people were aware of his involvement in her life from that time, but Hermione would never forget the terror she'd felt for the rest of the year whenever she saw the strapping blonde wizard who so resembled a Viking or a Norse god.
"Unfortunately, my dear, the current overseer of the Lifers floor at Azkaban is a young woman with a very personal grudge against Dumbledore's Army members and against you, in particular," Madame Pomfrey went on.
"Who?" Hermione asked, feeling fear grip her heart.
"Marietta Edgecombe took over the position on Umbridge's orders last month and she has been wreaking havoc there ever since."
"Oh no," Hermione sighed, recalling the girl who's face Hermione had ruined with her cursed list. The girl who's face still bore the word 'SNEAK' across it in wretched acne and boils that would never fade.
"She will be as merciless with you as she has been with Neville and Seamus, my dear," Poppy nodded sympathetically, her eyes sad.
"What does that have to do with removing all my body hair?" Hermione asked, holding still as Madame Pomfrey smeared the removal potion all over her legs, all over her privates, into the crack of her bum and under her arms.
"You'll be the only witch serving a life sentence, Hermione," Poppy whispered, "Alecto Carrow was deemed mentally unhinged and remanded to the spell-damage ward here at the hospital rather than Azkaban to serve her sentence. And no other witch has been given a life sentence since there were so few female Death Eaters. With Miss Edgecombe overseeing things, I am fearful for your safety. The only thing I can think of to get you out of there is for you to fall pregnant as soon as possible."
"You think she'll order the others to rape me?" Hermione asked, fearful.
"I don't think she'll have to. You are young, pretty, a war heroine. You have a nasty history with Dolohov. With Rowle. With both Malfoy men. There are undoubtedly more on the list of people you'll be incarcerated alongside in that place who have a personal grudge against you. Not to mention many of them are reprehensible wizards already serving life sentences. With the Dementors dismissed, the Kiss is no longer a viable threat to keep them in line. If Miss Edgecombe were to leave your cell unlocked with them similarly loose and able to get to you, or if they decided to take a shine to you whilst you are forced into a communal shower, you will be at their mercy."
"Except that I can perform wandless magic," Hermione reminded her, "I am not defenceless."
"You can only do so much though, and fear, pain or torment will distract from your ability to cast," Madame Pomfrey warned her, "Do not rely on magic alone to get you through this ordeal, Hermione."
"Wouldn't it make more sense to keep me as hairy as possible to deter them from gang-raping me?" Hermione asked, frowning as the potion took effect and Madame Pomfrey pushed her back into the shower to wash away the effects of the stuff, practically clogging the drain since it had been so long since she'd shaved anywhere. She hadn't exactly had the time or the privacy whilst on the run with Harry and Ron, living in a tent.
"You want to fall pregnant, Miss Granger, as soon as possible. The guards will be careful with you for a little while. You need to seduce one of them - all of them, if need be – and that will be easier achieved if you aren't excessively furry. If you get pregnant, you'll get out."
"That's a big 'if', Madame Pomfrey," Hermione reminded her, "Dolohov's curse makes it practically impossible, doesn't it? That's what you told me. And if I stop taking the contraceptives and things you've had me taking - in order to fall pregnant in the first place - I'll be writhing in agony every time I menstruate. More so than just PMS."
"And if you don't suffer through that, you will suffer brutal rape for the rest of your life," Madame Pomfrey reminded her sadly, "There is no other way I can think of to get you out of there, dear. You won't be eligible for appeal until you've served at least five years. You won't get parole for at least ten. Unless you seduce a guard or seduce Neville or Seamus or someone else in that prison and fall pregnant as soon as possible, you will eventually end up pregnant to one of the Death Eaters that will rape you. You will live the rest of your miserable life rotting in that place."
"You do recall what I went through with the curse the last time I had a period, don't you?" Hermione asked the woman fearfully, recalling too well the way it had felt like she was burning from the inside out - worse even that the Cruciatus curse - all as a result of the lingering effects of Dolohov's curse upon her.
"I remember," Madame Pomfrey nodded sympathetically, "I will give you as many potions to dull the pain as I can, but you must fall pregnant, Hermione. As fast as you can."
"Even if I can fall pregnant, what guarantee do we have that I'll be able to carry the child to term?" Hermione asked, "If I'm being raped and beaten in there, I'll miscarry."
"Every time you do, you will be brought to the hospital to recover," Madame Pomfrey offered, "The point is that pregnancy is your only valid and legally acceptable form of escaping prison. Does it matter which one of them is the father if it means you can avoid sitting in a cell, miserable, cold, alone, hungry and in pain, for the rest of your life?"
"I don't want to birth the spawn of one of those monsters," Hermione replied, "Imagine if someone like Dolohov got me pregnant! Imagine me trying to explain things to a child as it grows up. 'Oh, this scar, it's nothing darling. A little love-bite from Daddy. Yes, Daddy's still in prison. He raped Mummy while she was locked up too. I only had you as my ticket to freedom.' I couldn't do that to a child. Or to myself."
"Do you understand what might happen to you if you don't, Hermione?" Madame Pomfrey asked her, hauling her back out of the shower and drying her off before administering even more potions to her.
"They'll all shag me," Hermione sighed, "I'm not a virgin…. Sex wasn't so bad."
"Sex wasn't so bad when you were doing it with Mr Potter or young Mr Weasley," Madame Pomfrey corrected her, "When it was done with your consent as an expression of love or intimacy or raging teenage hormones. It will be very different when three or four grown men who loathe you all cram their penises inside your orifices, regardless of your screams, protests, pain or humiliation."
Hermione cringed at the truth of that.
"I've taken two at once before," Hermione admitted, "I was dating Fred and George during fifth year and still sleeping with them causally during sixth. I'm no stranger to some of the kinkier and more depraved things a wizard or wizards can do to a witch."
Madam Pomfrey looked rather startled at the admission.
"Nevertheless, Hermione, we are not talking about Fred and George Weasley. We're talking about the likes of Antonin Dolohov, Thorfinn Rowle, Rabastan Lestrange and Amycus Carrow. We're talking about Draco and Lucius Malfoy. About Theodore Nott. You do not want to find out the ways a person can suffer during intercourse when those animals get it into their heads to ravage you against your will."
"You really think my safest bet is to get pregnant?" Hermione asked her quietly.
"It's your only option for seeing freedom any time this decade," Poppy nodded her head, "But don't tell anyone what you're trying to do. If you're caught seducing people, you'll be blamed. If you are perceived as a victim, your superiors will be blamed. Meaning the Aurors and Edgecombe. If she lets people rape you, you will be remanded to the hospital and she will be fired."
"Right. So, seduce everyone. Don't get caught. Play it cool when people rape me?" Hermione asked, feeling bitterness well up in her at the very idea.
"Unless you get pregnant, you will not have proof of the encounters. Aurors and Miss Edgecombe can look the other way to such things – Merlin, if you're truly unfortunate some of the amoral aurors may try to rape you themselves. Without pregnancy, it will not be investigated – even if I were able to put in my findings that you'd been abused. The courts are dismissive of such things when it comes to those serving a life sentence."
"You say that like you know," Hermione frowned.
"Unfortunately, dear, I do know," Poppy sighed, "When I'm not matron up at the school, I am on the staff at the hospital here. Part of my rotations over the years has involved visiting Azkaban to examine the prisoners more than once in the past. Bellatrix Lestrange – whilst imprisoned – was one of my patients."
"She was raped in prison?"
"To be honest, my findings were inconclusive," Poppy sighed, "It was clear to me that she'd been sexually active whilst locked up – indeed she fell pregnant more than once but miscarried within the first three months. I was never able to discover if she was forced into the intimacy by guards, other inmates or her husband – whom she shared a cell with – or if she invited the sex as a means of fighting off the effects of the Dementors. As you know, they feed on positive emotions. The emotions created during sex and orgasm would have the same effect as a Patronus charm – for a few minutes at the very least."
"That's horrible," Hermione said wrinkling her nose.
"Yes well, it couldn't have happened to a nice person," Poppy said dryly, "I do not, however, want to see you suffer the types of things she did in prison. I will be falsifying my report to state that you are on contraceptives for medical reasons, as you have been since the end of your fifth year. You will not be taking them. For you check-up each month I will administer as many long-lasting pain potions as possible, but you will still experience some discomfort during menstruation, I'm afraid."
"What effect do you believe the curse will have on me being pregnant if I manage to conceive?" Hermione asked her quietly, taking a seat on the provided examination table and watching as Pomfrey began snipping at the matted tangle she was passing off as human hair.
"Well, the potions preventing your from menstruating have thus far nulled the pain of the curse that flares up at that time, so it stands to reason that being pregnant would have the same effect. Have you been experiencing any pain outside of your menstruation week?"
"To be honest I've been without proper nourishment for so long that I think I've lost the ability to menstruate, for the time being," Hermione admitted quietly, "I don't recall my last period."
"I feared as much. The potions I've given you will regulate your cycle once more," the matron told her, "I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this all off, dear. It's not going to untangle on its own."
"I thought that might happen," Hermione sighed, "It likes like an afro when it's short."
"I'll leave it as long as I can, Hermione, but a lot of the length will come off."
Hermione nodded her head.
"Will you give my love to Ron and Ginny?" Hermione asked of the witch quietly, "I saw them outside the courtroom, but the Aurors didn't stop to let them talk to me. There were reporters everywhere too."
"I'll pass along your love, dear," Poppy promised her, "I want you to do something for me, Hermione."
"What is it?"
"You must work hard inside your cell every day to make sure you stay fit and strong. You must eat every meal you are given, no matter how dull, repetitive or close to being contaminated it is. You must not allow your magic or your mind to diminish. Practice your spells as best you can without getting caught. You've a photographic memory. I want you to use it. Recite hours and hours' worth of stories and text-book chapters. Belt out boisterous songs, any you know the words to. Practice yoga. Keep your body supple and strong. Do not let the abuse – verbal or physical – from your guards or your fellow inmates dampen your spirit."
"I'll try," Hermione whispered.
"Do more than try, dear. Succeed. And open your mouth," Poppy told her.
Hermione did as she was told without question. Gasping in surprise when Poppy fished something from her pocket and popped in under Hermione's tongue.
"What's that?" Hermione asked.
"Don't let anyone see you with it. Don't swallow it. Don't lose it. I want you to hold that in your mouth until your exam next month, Miss Granger. It's a mandrake leaf," Poppy whispered.
Hermione's eyes widened before her mind began to race. A mandrake leaf. One she was to carry inside her mouth for an entire month. A task to stay strong and keep her magic sharp. Madame Pomfrey had given her all the tools to begin attempting Animagi. Hermione recognised what the witch was saying without her saying it.
If all else failed and the plan to escape by getting pregnant nosedived, Madame Pomfrey wanted to ensure there would be another option open to her for escape – a less legal option. Like Sirius before her, Hermione would hopefully, one day, be able to transform her body into that of an animal, slip between the bars and escape the terrible prison. It would make her a fugitive for the rest of her life, but Hermione was thinking she could live with that if the alternative was Azkaban. Hope filled her heart as she accepted her task, willing herself to meet the challenge.
She nodded her head and smiled widely at the medi-witch, brightly grinning at the other woman before tucking the mandrake leaf into her cheek where no one would spot it.
"Time to get dressed now, dear," Poppy sighed.
She walked over to the pile of things Hermione had noticed on the far bench. Beige knickers and a beige sports-bra were handed to her first, followed by a thermal shirt and some leggings – they were black in colour. Over the top of them she was given the modern day equivalent of a prison jumpsuit, striped black and white to make certain she felt like a proper criminal. Thick socks that would reach her knees were given, followed by a pair of wool-lined boots. To top off the ensemble was a heavy winter over-coat, lined with fur, to ensure that though it might currently be summer, she would be warm throughout the coming winter she would spend in prison.
"These things are also for you. The only items you are permitted, they will be replenished by elves as you require them," Madame Pomfrey told her, handing Hermione a family-sized package of loo paper, an enormous box of tampons, a Ministry issue toothbrush and hairbrush. A fat tube of toothpaste came with it, along with a set of sheets, a blanket and a lumpy looking pillow. She was also given a large water bottle – five litres worth of water.
"You are not permitted more than that per day, so be careful how you use it," Poppy warned her, pointing to the water, "You are also permitted some personal items, such as books, photos, and things as long as they are harmless in nature."
"I don't see any," Hermione said frowning when the only thing even resembling a book was a Ministry issue handbook listing the conduct and decorum expected of prisoners serving life sentences.
"I thought it more prudent to wait until next month to bring you such things. It will give Ronald a chance to gather anything in particular that you like. It will also mean that the guards and Miss Edgecombe are less likely to confiscate or damage your effects. I do not doubt she, especially, will attempt to ruffle your feathers."
"It would be wrong of me to murder her like I murdered Umbridge, wouldn't it?" Hermione asked.
"Some people deserve Death, Miss Granger," Poppy told her, smiling tightly, "But additional murders will not bring you parole any sooner should the plan for pregnancy or animagi fail."
Hermione sighed heavily.
"What do I get in my cell, do you know? In the holding cell we had to toilet in was a bucket in the corner and didn't get fed often, or given anything to keep us warm," Hermione told the witch.
"Your cell comes with a toilet, though it's little more than a bowl mounted on the wall and they barely flush. You will have a cot mounted along the length of one wall with a thin mattress on it. And that's really about it. There is a shelf to store the water and the toiletry items, but nothing else," Poppy told her. Every cell is eight by ten feet. The walls between adjacent cells are stone two-thirds of the way up, but there are bars at the top of each – meaning the others will be able to look into your cell whenever they are standing up. The front of the cell is entirely bars. Whomever you are opposite will have full view into your cell all of the time. The walkway separating all cells is four foot wide, so it you want to, you can reach across and touch the other person, if they are similarly reaching."
Hermione nodded her head, biting her lip carefully as she thought about it.
"Generally speaking, Lifers are kept on the highest floors of the prison, in the middle cells of the block. The ends – unless the floor is filled with lifers – are filled with those serving lengthy sentences. Kinsgley will likely be on your floor – or he was the last time I was there to check on Neville and Seamus - but he will be dealt with separately and kept away from you, I imagine," Poppy told her.
"How many women are likely to be on the floor I'm on?" Hermione asked carefully.
"The Lifers floor is full but for two cells and there are twelve cells to a floor. Kinsgley is in one of them – an amusement over the idea of the ex-Auror and the Death Eaters all living together. One of the vacant cells will be yours when you arrive. The other cell there not filled by someone serving a life sentence is currently unoccupied, but I suspect it will not remain that way for long. All of the Weasleys have been released except for George. He is still pending a trial. It's unlikely that he will be released. He lost control when Fred was killed and he murdered ten people – according to his wand – and so it's likely it will eventually belong to George."
Hermione nodded her head, her heart clenching in her chest.
"So I'm literally the only woman on the entire floor?"
"Yes," Poppy nodded, "You are in for a very rough existence surrounded by wizards, Miss Granger. I hardly think I need to tell you that men can be disgusting, but, well."
"But men can be absolutely disgusting," Hermione nodded her head, "You believe I will be escorted to the shower block along with the rest of them?"
"Oh no, there are too many to risk it all at once. They escort in groups of two to four at a time," Poppy told her.
"Oh good, that's just the number of orifices I have that can be brutalised," Hermione bit out coolly.
"Yes, I know. If you get a decent guard on duty, like Proudfoot or Entwhistle outside there," Poppy nodded toward the door, "You will likely be escorted down with your fellow DA members and friends. But there are others who will go by cell count, or by which four might bring the most amusement or cause you the most harm. If you are very lucky, someone might allow you to go alone, but if that happens you will need to remain on your guard to ensure you aren't jumped by them."
Hermione nodded her head.
"Pregnancy is the goal," Hermione reminded her, "If I don't fight, they might be less inclined to try it – those who only want to humiliate me."
"They might. Or they might take it as simply you becoming the, erm, broom to be ridden, as it were."
"Delightful," Hermione muttered, "Well, I don't see Seamus or Neville forcing themselves on me."
"No, I don't either. But they are still young men, Miss Granger. They have sexual urges and the sight of the naked female form will entice them. After a little while of being locked up, even their morals might begin to slip."
"I don't envision myself minding having to sleep with either of them," Hermione admitted softly, "Especially if I'm trying to get knocked up. I'd prefer one of them to be the father than one of the wretched Death Eaters."
Madame Pomfrey nodded.
"Well, my dear, I'm afraid there is little else I can do to prolong this meeting," the medi-witch sighed, "I want to thank you for all you have done for the wizarding world, no matter how wrong it is that you are being locked up for it. And I want you to promise me you won't lose hope. Don't give up. You fight every single day, you hear me?"
"I promise, Madame Pomfrey," Hermione smiled, allowing the witch to pull her into a motherly hug and squeeze her tightly, "Give my love to the Weasley's. If you see George before I do, please tell him I hope they let him go free. If you could ask Ron to get his hands on a picture of the Order and the DA from before the fighting began and everyone died, I'd very much appreciate it."
"Of course, my darling girl. And thank you, for what you did to that vile toad of a woman. I have wished ill on her since I first learned she was using a Blood Quill on my students – nay, since the days she filed legislation and bills pertaining to werewolves and so ruined my Remus's life."
"You and Remus were very close?" Hermione asked her.
"Oh yes," Poppy smiled sadly, "I loved that boy like he was my own son. I love every student I encounter, in my own way. But with his lycanthropy, Remus was a permanent fixture in my hospital throughout his years at Hogwarts."
"I'm sorry he's gone," Hermione whispered, feeling her eyes fill at the pain of knowing Fred and Tonks, Remus and Harry were all dead.
"I am too, Hermione. Now I need you to be strong for me so I can have you out of that place as soon as possible."
Hermione nodded her head in agreement, blinking back the tears.
"Are there any books you'd like me to deliver the next time I see you? You're only allowed three."
"Three?" Hermione asked, despairing, "Oh dear. That's not nearly enough. Erm, maybe a copy of all the Grimm's Fairytales? And the complete works on Jane Austin, if you can get them all in one thick tome? And the third… erm… maybe a book of poems or something? Something to take my mind off where I am. Or something on Animagi to make sure I don't mess it up?"
"I'll see what I can find. Minerva is sure to have a recommendation," Poppy promised her, "Best gather your things now, dear. It's time."
Hermione nodded her head, going to the desk and picking up the bag of belongings she'd been permitted in one hand, and the water container in the other. Her heart was pounding fearfully inside her chest. She didn't want to go. She wanted to run. To risk splinching herself by trying to apparate away. She wanted to beg Madame Pomfrey to hide her. She wanted to cry for her mother.
But she did none of those things. Instead, Hermione Granger shifted the mandrake leaf inside her cheek, squared her shoulders and accepted her fate, no matter what it might hold.
