"Nicolas Scabior," the voice behind him said again. He turned to look. Corban Yaxley, wand at attention stood inside the doors with two men Scabior hadn't seen before with him.

"You're to come with us. Now."

"No!" Hermione screamed, startling him until he turned to look in her terrified eyes. She reached for him, grabbing his arm so hard she pulled him off balance and he stumbled towards her, catching his weight on the edge of the medical gurney. She doubled over, clutching at her midsection, still in pain.

"Now," said the voice again.

He knew there was little room for argument. It was the end of the line. He had hoped that it wouldn't come to this, but perhaps he always knew from the moment he had first tasted fresh air outside of Azkaban that his victory was to be short lived.

He took Hermione's small hand between his two much larger ones as one of the mediwitches turned towards Yaxley.

"You cannot be in here."

"I can be wherever I want. I have an order signed by Rufus Scrimgeour himself. It's back to Azkaban for him!"

Scabior turned back to Yaxley. "Give me a minute."

Yaxley opened his mouth but Scabior cut him off. He continued, defeated.

"Give me one minute and I'll come with you. No protest, no struggle…I'll come along quietly."

Yaxley considered this for a split second as his eyes briefly darted between Hermione and Scabior before the corner of his mouth turned up.

"One minute. And if you try anything funny, you're a dead man."

He turned and walked out of the double doors, the two men following behind him.

Scabior turned back towards Hermione as the mediwitches bustled around her with their wands.

"Miss Granger, please lie back!" one of the mediwitches started as the other looked at Scabior.

"Sir-," the one nearest her left side started as she wanted to move him out of the way.

"A moment, please," he said, so quietly and softly the mediwitch took a step back and moved towards the other, whispering in her ear.

"Please don't leave me," Hermione said, tears dotting at the corners of her eyes and sweat breaking out across her forehead. "Please." She reached for his hand again. He took it. He coaxed her to lay back upon the pillows.

"I can't do it! I can't do this alone-,"

"You can, Hermione. You can and you must. Not only for me. For our baby."

Hermione sobbed and the tears fell, leaving wet tracks down her now-ashen cheeks in their wake.

The witches were buzzing around, working silently, performing all manner of spells and finally setting her legs askew as they draped the lower half of her body.

"I'm afraid-,"

"Don't be. You are so strong. You are…everything…"

Just then the double doors at the back of the room opened. It was one of the two men; a tall, broad man, who had arrived with Yaxley.

"Time's up, lad. Get a move on."

Scabior gave Hermione one last, longing look before dropping her hand and turning as he walked out of the room. Before he got through the doors, he heard her voice.

"Wait!," she cried.

He stopped and looked back at her, an arm holding one of the double doors open.

"I…I-" she stammered in between painful, laboured breaths. "I…need you to…I want…you to…know…"

Scabior's eyes bored into hers, bearing his very soul to her.

"I know."

And then he was through the doors.

"No," she said softly, to no one in particular. One of the mediwitches reached for her arm.

"No!," she yelled this time, sitting up and trying to move, trying to follow him, trying to run away from this moment and perhaps even herself…

"Miss Granger, please settle down!"

"You shouldn't feel much pain as we've performed several spells."

"Please lay back, and calm down, we need to you push soon."

"No!," she screamed, struggling against the mediwitch.

"Think-think of your baby!"

Hermione halted all at once. She had somehow forgotten in her near-hysteria what she was doing here. She closed her eyes and pictured Scabior's face.

Hermione's tears fell down her cheeks and the sweat from her brow trickled down into her eyes as she lay back on the table. Her heart was beating so fast she was afraid she would die. "No," she spoke again, her voice choking on a sob.

"Miss Granger, are you ready…?"

"No…no…no…" Hermione muttered over and over again, her head moving from side to side as she, nearly feverish from stress and strain finally felt the darkness that had been threatening to take her envelop her like a warm blanket.