It has been far, far too long. I am so sorry wonderful readers. Work has been...just utter chaos with the end of academic year looming. I have been working on work at home in the evenings (something I try to assiduously avoid), I have had to deal with more plague in the house, it has just been one thing after another. I haven't replied to some reviews, PMs languish for days...arrrggghh, I hate not being on top of things here. I wish this paid my bills so I could just do the fun stuff all the time. Real life is so demanding at times! I am sorry for making you wait. It was not my intention. To apologize to you, I am posting this unedited, right now. I don't think there are too many egregious errors. I really can't bear making you wait another day so I can check it tomorrow evening. Please tell me I'm not horrid and let me know what you think of this new chapter. I would not have taken so long to post again if it could have been avoided, I promise. THANK YOU for being such faithful readers & reviewers! It means the world to me. Virtual hugs to you all!
"Reparo."
The cracked tip of her wand seamed itself together in her hand, and Voldemort lifted the Elder wand away. "I don't doubt that it will work, but nonetheless I believe a visit to Ollivander's is in order."
Hermione glanced up at his face and held his gaze for a moment before returning her attention to her wand. "Let's see, then."
She flicked the wand expertly and was relieved when books stacked themselves floor to ceiling. "It still feels different…less precise, somehow."
"It's the realignment."
He didn't need to say anything further. Their auras synchronized themselves almost without thought whenever they were around one another now, yielding a strange sort of peace. What had Hermione biting her nails at night was the question of how long he could conceal it, and the nature of his condition, from his followers.
"I have to speak with Severus about the potion," Hermione said. She left unspoken the fact that her insights into the potion's brewing were changed from finally having an intimate understanding of what Tom expected the potion to do.
"Unfortunately I have a session with the Wizengamot, and then a meeting with Walden and Lucius."
"Perhaps Severus would be kind enough to accompany me to Ollivander's. It will be past the peak time."
Despite having the freedom of the grounds and the dubious pleasure of the occasional stilted conversation with the Malfoys over a formal dinner, Hermione found that she only trusted Severus Snape, and Voldemort himself. It was perhaps understandable given the wary looks she encountered in most of his Death Eaters, and the ill-concealed outright malice from Bellatrix Lestrange. It would be a big step to go out without Tom, and they both knew it. The pause was excruciating as he considered, appraising the swell of her belly. She was nearly seven months' pregnant, but with the way she was carrying it was still possible to conceal the pregnancy with her robes.
"We will Floo to Hogwarts, and I will see if Severus is available."
It was as good as a yes, and Hermione was incapable of restraining her smile. Voldemort gave her a sidelong glance of amusement as he gestured toward the fireplace in his study. Hermione was aware of the dull throb of magic as he twisted the wards of Malfoy Manor itself effortlessly to allow the Floo to flare to life. She could only imagine how Lucius Malfoy's jaw must tick whenever he felt the rebounds from Tom coming and going as he pleased.
"Remus, it's only right. I cannot endanger your family any longer. I still have the tent and supplies, and Draco is prepared to go with me given his circumstances."
Harry's voice was firm, and Remus exchanged a look with Tonks, who spoke.
"Harry, you have to know that Kingsley is not prepared to accept the amnesty offer. He has seen some of the things that are being done behind the scenes with the education programmes and the passing over of Dark artifacts by the Aurors. This is not the kind of world any of us want to raise children in—"
Harry cut her off. "But it is the world as it exists today, Tonks." He refrained from looking at Draco, who said exactly that to Harry not two nights' prior during one of their final arguments about the best course of action. He took a deep breath, then continued, "Besides, Kingsley is sacrificing enough by helping me with Plan B."
Tonks exchanged another worried look with Remus. "About that, Harry—are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Remus was quick to jump back into the conversation. "If you would only tell us what it is you are thinking of, Harry, we could at least offer advice, a different perspective…"
"No thanks. This is something I have to do alone," Harry insisted. Remus looked about to push the point but Draco finally spoke up.
"You can't expect him to tell you what he wants to do when you're about to accept the amnesty. We know you're pants at Occlumency, so just let it go." Draco's eyes were cool, but his shoulders were set and it was obvious that he was tense.
"Harry, there has to be a different way than to go on the run again—" Tonks began, but Remus cut her off, his expression troubled.
"No, Dora, clearly he's set on this course of action." He stood and held out his hand to Harry, who shook it gratefully. "I wouldn't be surprised if he weren't getting some assistance from some at Hogwarts."
"It could be," Harry acknowledged. "I promise, if I were to leave—I would tell you first."
Tonks and Draco stood as well, and Tonks gave Harry a teary hug, then turned to Draco. "You take care of him and yourself, you hear me? I'd like to know I have a cousin still somewhere about the place."
"I intend to," Draco promised, patting his pocket to be sure that he had all of his belongings, meager though they were.
"I can't thank you enough for all that you've done," Harry said sincerely, turning to embrace Andromeda, who had come quietly into the kitchen for the last part of the discussion.
"Don't give up hope, Harry," she said, and Harry nodded, heading with Draco for the door. The moonlight half illuminated his face as he turned back once before leaving.
"I will always hope."
"Cold today."
Mulciber's gruff comment was better than the sullen silence which Snape had adopted at being disrupted from his routine, but Hermione could not find the trip to be a jolly excursion. Voldemort had insisted that someone else accompany them to Diagon Alley, and given Mulciber's proximity as the newest DADA professor (a joke if ever there was one), the burly Death Eater was press ganged into service. The weather was truly foul, autumn's bluster settling like a windy and wet blanket over all of London.
"Yes," Hermione agreed audibly, simply to be sociable to some minimal degree. She had the hood of her cloak pulled forward enough to conceal her face unless someone was looking directly at her, but Severus Snape was hardly an unrecognizable figure as they quickly made their way to Ollivander's shop. The bell above the door tinkled as they entered, and Hermione was relieved by the apparent completion of repairs to the premises. She briefly wondered if there were a dust recipe which Ollivander used as motes drifted down from the closing of the door, but her thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Ollivander himself as he entered the front room of the store from the back.
"Good afternoon. Are you here about a wand?" His tone was professional and slightly warm, but his expression changed when Hermione turned to face him directly and he saw who it was that had entered his premises. "I see…good day, Madame. How may I help you?"
His tone was laced with the uneasy acknowledgement of the life debt he owed, as well as the horrific realization that she was now married to the man responsible for his incarceration and torture.
"Obviously we're here about a wand," Mulciber sneered, his eyes roving the shop with disdain.
"I need a replacement wand," Hermione said firmly, taking charge of the conversation. She withdrew her wand from her sleeve and placed it on the counter when Ollivander indicated she should do so after a brief hesitation.
"I see…let me take a look…"
All business now, Garrick Ollivander inspected her wand with an analytical eye. "Vinewood…carved…dragon heartstring…repaired—" he paused, then carefully set the wand down. "What prompts you to seek a new wand?"
The question was whispered, and Hermione was aware of Snape's keen ear and Mulciber's obvious irritation as he idly watched passers-by through the shop window.
"My magic has changed, Mr. Ollivander."
Hermione met his gaze unflinchingly, and Ollivander seemed to recoil just the tiniest bit from that before he became briskly business-like again.
"Of course. Let me select a few wands to start."
Fifteen minutes later and they were no closer to a wand match.
"Curiouser and curiouser…" Mr. Ollivander mused as she set down an ebony wand with a dragon heartstring core.
"This is a bloody waste of time," Mulciber snarled, thoroughly impatient with the proceedings.
"Would you care to inform the Dark Lord that his wife was prevented in her errand by your impatience?" Snape asked silkily, turning to confront the man.
"If you please, I believe I might have something more appropriate back here, or upstairs," Ollivander said, sending a nervous glance at Snape and Mulciber.
"Of course," Hermione acquiesced, following Ollivander to the back room of the shop as Snape paused to watch her go, then resumed berating Mulciber.
"Just a tick, Madame, I am quite certain I have something up here…"
Garrick Ollivander disappeared up a creaky, rickety set of stairs, and Hermione turned to examine the dusty workspace. There was a half-turned wand on a lathe, and various tools scattered about on a work surface. There was something off about the space, however; and Hermione turned again slowly, tuning her senses. There it was, a whiff of something, a scent she knew all too well…
"Harry?" she whispered incredulously.
"Hermione."
It was faint, but Harry was close enough that she could smell his shampoo through the invisibility cloak.
"Harry, what are you doing here?" Hermione hissed, throwing a glance toward the front of the shop.
"Draco needed a wand," Harry hissed back. Hermione carefully scanned the room again and saw a slight glimmer a few feet away from the area that Harry's voice seemed to be coming from. "What are you doing here, without your…husband? What exactly has happened to you, Hermione?"
"My wand was damaged in a duel," Hermione said, then brushed off the thought with a wave of her hand. "Harry, what are you doing? I'm trying to keep his attention off you, but it doesn't help when certain known members of the Order haven't accepted his amnesty."
"Oh, you're trying to help, are you? Well marrying the man who's repeatedly tried to kill me isn't exactly helpful, Hermione!" Harry's voice was still pitched very low, but there was no mistaking the anger in his voice.
Hermione threw another glance toward the front of the store, where Snape was engaged in an argument of some kind with Mulciber. "It wasn't like that Harry. You don't understand."
"You're right Hermione. I don't understand. I don't understand how you could choose to marry him, knowing what he's done, who he is. He cursed Ron—he's dying, Hermione."
She could hear the accusation in his tone, sucked in a quick breath. "I'm sorry, Harry. Ron invoked a clause of our marriage bond—he was defending me. What Ron was doing…it was damaging me."
"So it's all right for him to damage Ron?" Harry hissed a bit louder, and Hermione felt the forked sting of guilt and anger.
"You two should have left me alone. I'm sure Snape told you why," Hermione retorted in a hushed whisper. At the front of the store, Snape was growing louder in his argument with Mulciber, who seemed about to leave the shop. Hermione darted another nervous look in that direction before returning her attention to the general direction of Harry's voice.
"Could you please let me at least see you?" Hermione pleaded, tears threatening. How was it that her remaining best friend was standing here, not even showing himself to her and accusing her of betrayal?
Harry thrust back the hood of the cloak with an impatient flick and looked Hermione square in the eye. "I don't know what you think you're playing at, Hermione, but that…wizard isn't some project for rehabilitation. He's slowly killing one of your best friends and has killed and tortured countless others."
Hermione took another shuddering breath as her emotions careened all over the place. "I have to believe there is still something in him worth saving, Harry."
"What about Muggles like your parents, Hermione? Aren't they worth saving?" Harry asked rashly, causing Hermione to flinch in shock, one hand protectively going to her abdomen. Harry's eyes followed her hand involuntarily and he took a step forward, his wand hand emerging from the invisibility cloak, causing her to raise her own wand protectively. She saw a visible shimmer in the corner before Draco's disillusionment charm dissolved. He was by Harry's side in an instant, clapping a hand on his invisible shoulder.
"That's enough, Harry!" he hissed. Hermione had a second to meet the quicksilver flash of Malfoy's eyes before the sudden cessation of words in the front room coupled with the squeaking of the steps as Ollivander returned from upstairs alerted them all, causing Harry to take a step back and pull the hood quickly over himself again. The echo of the shop door slamming reverberated through the structure as Snape strode toward the back room. Draco vanished soundlessly and Hermione took a step away, fingering the partially shaped wand at Ollivander's workstation in the back room.
"Here are some more wands, Madame…perhaps one of these," he announced as he hit the bottom step, his attention turning to Severus Snape, who was framed in the doorway. "Shall we go back to the front? I dislike leaving it unattended."
"Yes, yes of course," Hermione said. She refused to meet Snape's eye as she did so, merely noted that Mulciber had apparently been exiled outside. Her heart was still racing from what had just happened, and she was cold from the fear of what Harry had meant, what he had concluded from her shape, followed by a flush of anger that he had started to draw his wand on her. She barely paid heed to Mr. Ollivander's prattling, automatically grasping the offered wand and swishing it. It did not work, nor did the next. The whole time she wondered if Harry and Draco had left, or if they were still waiting in the back room. The rush of power was a surprise, and she looked up as all the candles in the room guttered out.
"That's it, then. Rowan wood, thestral tail hair core." Garrick Ollivander's piercing gaze held her briefly. "I did not make this wand, Madame—I inherited it along with the shop. I am not sure who did make it, but…" he seemed to consider Snape's presence, then finished with a whisper, "the wand does choose the witch. May it serve you well."
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Hermione replied, not trusting herself to make any sort of reference to Harry, however obliquely, in her goodbye to the wandmaker. For all she knew, Severus was responsible for the meeting, and Ollivander was an unwitting bystander. As they stepped out of the shop she resolved to ask him in private at the next opportunity.
"Mulciber is not in view—we should see if Ollivander has a Floo in his shop," Snape said, drawing his wand. The rain made visibility less than ideal, and Hermione was extremely thankful she had not put her away her own wand when the sudden flare of a spell caused her to raise a shield, prepared to block the spell that Snape batted away.
They were given no opportunity to retreat, as three cloaked and hooded figures appeared through the rainy mist. The few passers-by in the alley scattered with pops of apparition as the first spell was cast, informing them that anti-apparition wards had not yet been enacted. Hermione gritted her teeth—apparition was not recommended during pregnancy, making staying to fight the only option.
"Duck!" she said, firing at the figure to Snape's left as he blocked a hex and threw his own toward the opponents on her right. Severus Snape was no slouch, but when a fourth attacker materialized, Hermione was very grateful for Voldemort's training. If her opponents recognized her husband's fluid dueling style, they gave no audible indication of it, the increasing viciousness of the spells they were throwing saying it for them, especially after she was certain she hit one with Voldemort's acid drops.
"Where the hell have you been?" Snape roared at Mulciber when he turned up a few minutes into the duel. The temporary distraction was not beneficial, as Mulciber was almost instantly hit with an Entomorphis curse. The rain increased, making it more difficult to see, and their assailants were moving around as well, not hampered by any anti-apparition wards as of yet. Hermione was having trouble figuring out who was firing what, her new wand blurring with the spells she was casting. Severus was more than holding his own, but there was no sign of the Aurors.
"They're trying to move us away from the shop," she said through gritted teeth, catching a glimpse of a mask beneath the hooded cape of one attacker. Spells were flying fast and furious, so many it was hard to tell where they were coming from.
"Fuck!" Snape swore bitterly, and Hermione took a deep breath, noticing that he had moved his wand to his left hand.
"Shield!" Hermione ordered, her instinct pulling on Heka while she clinically controlled her magic before letting it explode from her wand, trying to keep the flames from gobbling up storefronts as they shrieked around them in a protective hedge. She could dimly hear cries of surprise or pain and cracks of disapparition, but she was more concerned with getting herself and Snape back into Ollivander's.
"Cease, madame, I have a shield at the ready," Severus said, his wand aloft and prepared to rebuff all attacks as she drew down the flames again so she could reenter the shop. As the flames died down, Hermione caught the horrified expressions of lookers-on from the stores across the street.
"Madame, please—" Mr. Ollivander began, but Hermione was in no mood for his expressions of horror or outrage. His eyes were genuinely shocked, leading her to believe he had nothing to do with what had chanced to occur outside his establishment.
"Enough, Mr. Ollivander. We require the use of your Floo immediately," Hermione said, deliberately channeling her husband's manner.
"Of—of course, my lady—this way…" The older man visibly pushed back his concern to something more guarded, swiftly leading them to a cramped office that housed his Floo connection. "Where should I direct the Aurors, if you please?"
"Hogwarts," Hermione said decisively. Until she knew exactly who had been behind that, she was not going anywhere else until Tom knew.
"I still don't like it, Harry. This sort of thing is a step too far."
Draco's voice of reason was the last thing Harry wanted to hear right now. It had been interesting to hear Ollivander talking about Draco's new wand of applewood with the Veela hair core. It had been a pressing distraction from all of their worries, but after the conversation with Hermione Harry was convinced that this was the only path forward.
"I'm sorry to hear that you disagree, Draco," Harry said, not looking at him. Draco seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when he was lying to him, and he wasn't going to risk that just at the moment. "You know I value your opinion."
That, at least, was honest. He heard Draco's sigh of relief, as this had usually indicated agreement with Draco's suggestion. Harry didn't want to think about the look of betrayal and disappointment as he turned around, Draco's old wand in hand, to immobilize him with a Stunner.
Hermione looked at Snape's arm, but he ignored her visible concern and gestured her forward. "Time enough to deal with that later."
"Indeed," Hermione agreed, her heart pounding wildly now that it was over. Her skin felt clammy, and she wasn't quite sure, as she stepped out of the Floo into Severus Snape's office, that she wasn't about to be sick. Snape followed immediately behind her, took one glance at her pasty face, and said brusquely, "Sit."
"What about Mulciber?" she said, meeting Snape's ferocious gaze.
"If your Fiendfyre didn't roast him, the Dark Lord will," Severus snapped. His head swiveled to the portraits on the walls and he snapped, "Fetch Minerva immediately!"
Dilys Derwent nodded and vanished from her frame. Hermione did her best to ignore Albus Dumbledore's portrait, which had clearly been placed under a silencing charm of some sort.
"Your arm—" Hermione began, but Snape waved her off.
"Ossio dispersimus," Snape said dispassionately, rifling through a cabinet concealed behind a portrait which contained several potions before he removed one that was clearly Skele-Gro, quaffing the violent yellow contents in one gulp.
"I need to tell Tom what happened, but I don't want to send my Patronus—" Hermione began, and Snape stopped his search for a pregnancy-suitable Pepper Up to look at her pointedly. She bravely continued, "It's just that he doesn't need to know about that particular…feature of the Patronus charm if he doesn't know about it already…"
"I don't suppose your husband will know about this incident already through your marriage bond?" he asked, his black eyes glimmering.
"I wasn't in life-threatening danger, so, no," Hermione said, her face apologetic. He knew precisely what she was asking.
Severus raised an eyebrow at that explanation, but wordlessly proffered his arm, allowing her to undo the buttons at his wrist and roll up his sleeve to expose the Dark Mark. The only expression of pain as she brought the forefinger of his right hand to his Dark Mark was an indrawn hiss of breath, but she privately thought it was a mark of how much pain he had endured in his lifetime that he was willing to let the arm be moved at all. The snake writhed under his skin, and he exhaled again sharply as Hermione let his hand drop.
"Sorry."
Hermione felt Voldemort's magic before he physically arrived in the office, the wards distorting to allow him passage into the headmaster's office. She doubted Severus enjoyed knowing that his master could appear at any time, but there wasn't a ward yet developed which Tom could not get through, or at least none that she knew of.
"What happened?" he asked sharply, taking in both pale faces and drawing the correct conclusion.
"We were attacked leaving Ollivander's," Hermione said.
Voldemort's attention shifted instantly to Severus. "Where is Mulciber?"
"Fannying around or dead—at this point I don't care, since he wasn't where he was supposed to be when this began."
Hermione had no good words to offer on Mulciber's behalf, and the tightening at the corners of Voldemort's mouth indicated that Snape had probably called his response correctly.
"Who was it?" Voldemort bit out, returning his full attention to Hermione.
"They were cloaked and masked, and it was raining," Hermione replied. She knew he was impatient with such an insufficient answer, but she was not prepared to be grilled in front of Snape or anyone. The staircase ground and Minerva entered a room full of taut tension, instantly uncertain as to what to do.
"Minerva, please be prepared to handle anything that comes up while I regrow the bones in my right arm," Severus said, hoping that the Dark Lord would permit her immediate dismissal. Fortunately, his attention was still entirely fixed on his wife, so Severus nodded Minerva out before the Dark Lord decided to take out his irritation on her.
"Of course." Minerva had no interest in being a part of whatever was going on in the headmaster's office, and beat a hasty retreat. She would consult with Albus' portrait in her rooms and see if there was anything of import to be gleaned.
"Your arm," Voldemort demanded of Snape, keeping his gaze fixed on his wife. He looked briefly at the Dark Mark before pressing it and hissing Mulciber's name, pulling his finger away impatiently as he pulled his wand from his sleeve to check her for any injury. "How many?"
"At least six," Hermione said, receiving a nod from Snape for confirmation.
Voldemort cocked his head and studied her, carefully increasing the level of contact between their auras. Yes, there was something there, something dangerous.
"You're holding something back from me," he said lowly, straightening his head and approaching her chair with a decided air of intimidation. "Your vow, wife."
Hermione broke eye contact to glance at Snape, who was doubtless experiencing side effects from the Skele-Gro which he was admirably hiding.
"Severus, leave us."
"My lord."
Voldemort cast a few silencing spells of his own design on the room, then pinned her in place with his gaze, gliding over to her and holding out his hand expectantly. Hermione glanced at the portraits—they were shrouded in a white film, unable to see or hear them.
"This isn't necessary," she began, but she placed her hand in his anyway, allowing the increased connection to thrum powerfully between them.
"I disagree. Out with it. Now."
"I ran into Harry at Ollivander's."
It came out in a rush, not in the steady way she had hoped to manage. It didn't take long for the predictable response to bubble forth like hot lava, his magic exploding around her like a wave of magma, bouncing against the wards he had set.
"WHAT?"
If his aura wouldn't have told her, Hermione would have known he was extremely angry by the way he was actually shouting.
"Where was Severus? Where was Mulciber? How were you even allowed to encounter that, that—"
"I know you're angry, but we only talked," Hermione said. "He was in the back of the shop, Severus and Mulciber were arguing over something out front, and Ollivander had gone upstairs to find more wands. I was a 'difficult case'."
Voldemort angrily broke off the connection between them, snapping his hand away as if the contact burned him, beginning to cast the Dark Mark. "And you think the fact that you were attacked as soon as you left the shop was a coincidence?"
"Yes, I do!" Hermione said angrily, awkwardly rising to her feet. "What do you think you're doing?"
Voldemort's tone was cold when he replied. "Summoning Draco. It is time Harry Potter was brought to heel."
"It wasn't Harry!" Hermione cried, pulling his wand down mid-cast. "Don't you dare blister at me like that! The spells that were being thrown at me and Severus were not the work of the Order! The only ones I've seen like it are your Death Eaters and followers!"
He shook her hand off his robes as if he were shaking off a bug, flames dancing in his eyes as he whipped around to face her, grabbing her by the arms. He wanted to shake her, to throttle her, but even through the roar of his anger her mere presence steadied his emotions, helped him, damn her.
"You are mistaken. My followers are under as good a regulation as ever."
"And that is why MacNair is withholding articles from publication? And why Bellatrix LeStrange barely conceals her loathing for me?" Hermione was not going to be deterred. "You know there is a possibility that I am right, you know that some of your followers are unhappy about your marriage to me and this child, you know they don't like how much attention you have lavished on teaching me—Tom, I told you, you cannot control people with fear alone!"
"Legilimens," he breathed, a mere hiss. It was an invitation of sorts, or a warning, depending on how she took it. Her mind unfurled like the petals of a flower for him, readily pushing forward her memories from the time she stepped through the doorway of Ollivander's shop to the gamboling, high flames she had used to protect herself. Her expression was that of vindication as he withdrew, and unwisely she said, "You see what I mean—it had to be renegade Death Eaters."
"I see nothing of the kind," Voldemort said coldly, releasing her with a poor imitation of indifference on his face as he turned and paced the length of the office. "I will grant that your assailants used a variety of darker spells. This proves nothing."
"But with so many former Order members accepting your amnesty, you have to admit that the most likely capable of casting such spells are under monitoring and could not have done so here," Hermione pushed. Voldemort turned his head to answer her, his gaze fixed through the window on a growing speck in the distance.
"There are many possible ways they could have evaded detection," he said stubbornly, his mind turning over the information, seeking the most likely pattern as his wand automatically moved again to cast the Dark Mark. He could still feel the blowback from his agitation, alongside the flash of actual worry on hearing that someone had dared to attack her.
"You are such a bloody stubborn git, you can't even admit what is right in front of you!" Hermione shouted, then turned away from him to bite her lip. How could she stop him from arresting Harry? So far he had been so disinterested in Harry, correctly viewing him as little threat to his consolidation of power. Tears threatened to spill, blurring her vision, and she didn't realize she let out an audible gasp as she tried to keep the tears from falling. He was across the room silently before she realized, his strong arm pulling her backward against his chest, his hand caressing her belly.
"What would you have me do, faes hi takēm kātha? He is the only declared enemy I have left, the only figurehead commanding enough to muster support for such an attack. Would our bond be satisfied if I left it, knowing it could be a danger to do so?"
"But if Harry is free, it gives you room to maneuver, to test your followers and find out exactly who was responsible. If you bring him in, you will have removed your remaining opposition, but given room for any hidden opposition to grow."
Voldemort was somewhat distracted by the feel of their son moving beneath his hand, but the sudden tension of her womb drew his full attention. He felt a hint of something and firmly grasped her forearm, pulling her around to face him so he could take a good look at her.
"You are unwell."
"It's just residual tension from the duel."
Hermione met his gaze evenly, but with a brief press of his hand to her belly he knew her to be a liar. His head swiveled and he spoke a quiet word, parting the wards to reveal Snape waiting at the doorway.
"Severus, fetch Healer Strout again. You may partially reverse the Obliviate so she will come quietly. Bring her to the Manor."
"Of course," Snape said with a quick bow. There was scratching at the window, and Voldemort flicked his hand to open it and allow the owl entry, although it still had to buffet through his thick wards to do so. The bedraggled owl swooped once around the office, landing on the headmaster's chair.
It was pure luck that Hermione was closer, and saw her name on the folded, lumpy parchment. She untied the string and a very small package fell out along with a note. By the time she had untied the package carefully on the desk, Voldemort had the note in his hand, demanding she read it.
Hermione,
I hate that it has come to this, but you should know that we have your parents. I have to save what I can. If you want to see them again, you'll come.
Harry
A battered gold DA coin lay in the center of the parchment Hermione had unwrapped.
"Still think his intentions are benign?" Voldemort snarled, removing his wand from his sleeve. Hermione knew exactly what he was intending to do, and there was only one way to stop him. She reached out and grabbed the coin, a familiar jerk at the navel taking hold.