Hermione swallowed. The wand twisted over her left side, and a spell was muttered.

She thought of small fingers and toes. A boy with shaggy brown hair in her lap, pouting over a book.

Something wrenched inside of her. Severing her. Her legs jerked, throat clicking on a silent gasp of pain. She stared at the ceiling as the older witch moved to her right side.

Her fallopian tubes were being severed.

The wand tapped at her right hip as the older witch leaned over her, obstructing Dolohov from view. And she thought she could see a bright bow balanced on twisting curls.

The wand twisted again. A tear dripped out of her lashes.

And then the hand on Hermione's stomach pinched the flesh on her hip between two nails.

She jumped, legs spasming. If she had her voice she would have yelped. Hermione looked to the older witch, confused. What was that for?

The woman pulled away, smoothing her hand down Hermione's stomach and turned to Dolohov. "It's done."

But there was no internal cut. Not on the right side.

Dolohov grinned, and the older woman pulled the young girl off the floor. Dolohov held Hermione’s clean clothes out to her, barking at her to dress quickly. The mediwitches made notes on their papers, keeping their eyes down.

Hermione didn't even worry about Dolohov's eyes as she redressed. She watched the women.

Stepping in front of a Death Eater to give Hermione Granger a chance at a future. The older woman met her eyes as Dolohov hauled her out the door. He whispered something into her ear about mourning the mutts they would have had.

He returned her to the holding room, and Hermione didn’t even flinch as his hand passed over her backside. Her mind was spinning. The only weapon she had left.

“Hermione!”

The door clanged closed. And fifty girls came to their feet. Even Pansy looked on with curiosity.

Ginny pushed her way forward, holding her, touching her, asking her questions she couldn’t answer.

“Hermione?” Ginny prompted when she hadn’t spoken.

She raised her fingers to her throat and shook her head. She watched Ginny’s eyes flatten. Watched Cho frown at the ground. Watched a room full of girls realize Hermione Granger’s swotty voice had been taken away.

Luna stepped forward. “Are you hurt, Hermione?”

She looked at the small smile on Luna’s lips. She shook her head no.

She didn’t need them to know any more than that.

Had half of these girls been sterilized? Did the mediwitches spare others?

And what purpose did that serve if she was just going to be sold and raped? Why would the older witch save fifty percent of her chances?

A gasping from the corner. Several of them turned to see a young girl no more than fourteen starting to cry. Starting to hyperventilate. Penelope Clearwater came to her side, and wrapped her arms around her, demanding that she breathe.

“What… what are we— are we going to do?” the girl cried. “She couldn’t— She didn’t get out.”