It had been weeks and still nothing. There were no signs, no inkling of a pregnancy just another night of passionless sex this time across the desk in his office.
Hermione hissed as his nails dug into her scalp, he was nearly finished and she stilled herself for his release.
He grunted stiffening before momentarily collapsing against her back. His breath hot on her neck and she suppressed a shutter as she batted away unshed tears.
Slowly, he stood adjusting himself as he fixed his robes. The Dark Lord fell into the chair staring at his wife's bare bottom. Her flesh was red; he hadn't meant to take her so forcefully but he was becoming impatient and angry.
The anger wasn't toward her but rather himself. He shouldn't have let it got this far. His feelings were to blame. None of this should have gotten this far he thinks back to that night over six years ago.
He should have used her sated his curiosity and his appetites and killed her. He should have dispensed with all of them.
His thoughts raced wildly clouding his mind making his vision temporarily blurry.
She righted herself pulling down the thin silk nightgown, and faced him using the desk for support.
He averted his gaze it was becoming unbearable to look her in the eye.
"You don't want to look at me now?" she whispered. Hermione continued, "do I disgust you?"
He continued to stare at the floor.
"No. I am beginning to disgust myself," he whispered.
She wasn't expecting his honesty and was about to respond when he waved his hand.
"You're dismissed," he snapped. She wanted to probe further to see if she could reach the man and somehow bypass the overlord but given his fair weather temperament she remained quiet and simply left him to the darkness.
He sat in silence for nearly an hour his mind racing and he grew nervous. Something else he was unaccustomed to, nerves.
Never before had he hesitated nor second guessed making a demand of someone especially a follower, an inferior.
Voldemort sneered before rising from the chair and stole a glance at the clock. It was late and as he took the remainder of the evening to mull over the plan and the details his request could wait until tomorrow.
He would need to speak with or rather inform Hermione, it did after all involve her friend.
He, they, needed a womb, a healthy carrier, a surrogate and Snape's wife was young. He would make it quick he figured the girl was fairly fertile given the couple had three children.
He would only need to bed her once or twice at the most. He needed to let his wife know the next step in their plan.
Voldemort entered to find his wife already asleep her cheeks damp. He rolled his eyes in annoyance although a slither of something akin to guilt ran through him. Something else unfamiliar and unwelcomed.
He removed his robe allowing it to fall to the floor and doing his best not to disturb her he nestled next to her letting himself down gently.
Hermione woke to find herslef nestled in her husband arms. Normally she would have sunk furhter into him relishing in the heat and tautness of his lean body. Instead she wanted to recoil and jump from their bed.
She remained still wondering if he was awake. She had her answer when she heard him sigh and felt the mattress shift as he sat up.
"We need to talk," he whispered his left hand lightly holding her upper arm as he made small circles with his thumb.
Hermione sighed sitting up, "ok."
"I have a solution as we are running out of time." He looked over at her before continuing.
She was holding onto the covers.
"You," he paused hesitating unsure of how to proceed, "we," he was careful to emphasize the collective term he didn't want her to feel as if he was placing the blame on her, "need a surrogant and as this is a delicate matter. We should use someone we can trust someone whose loyalty is unquestionable. Mrs. Snape, Ginerva, would suffice."
He waited.
It took the young mother a moment to comprehend the implication but once the initial shock settled her blood ran hot.
"What!" she screamed as she got up on her knees her body angled toward him.
"Are you mad!? Ginny is my friend and what makes you think you can make demands on someone like that? What about Professor Snape? And his feelings about all of this?" She paused waiting for him to speak.
He moistened his lips he had expected some push back but he felt prepared. In the end, he would make the request anyway and would expect for the couple to agree.
"I am their master, Hermione, and if they are true followers then this request should be answered with enthusiasm as they both should be honored."
The statement was said without the authority he had practiced in his mind. He was becoming unsure of himself something else that rattled him.
Slowly, she rose from the bed pulling her robe from the foot of it as she slipped it around her body.
"You weren't asking me were you?"
She looked at him her eyes sad. He looked away refusing to hold her gaze.
"No, I am not."
She sighed.
"Very well then. You don't have my support on this. I hope they say no." She crossed her arms defiant.
"Then you want them dead?"
He met her gaze some of the fire returning to him, "death is the only outcome for those that refuse a request."
Hermione looked down at the floor she had an emotion she couldn't place or rather she didn't want to claim. Voldemort rose from the bed his eyes never once leaving her. Out of habit his lips downturned. He couldn't read her.
Abruptly her gaze lifted she had found it, she would claim it now. That hatred was back somewhere between pretending and the niceites she had hidden it away but now this diabolical demand had unearth it.