When Stroud conjured an exam table in the centre of the room, he sneered at her. “Walk the additional ten feet to her bed and cast your diagnostic charms there,” he said in a cold voice.
Stroud huffed faintly under her breath and walked over to where Hermione was curled into a ball.
Stroud barely glanced at Hermione as she cast a complex diagnostic over Hermione's stomach. A tiny orb of pale, almost blinding bright, yellow light appeared; pulsing so rapidly it was nearly fluttering. It looked almost like a golden snitch but it was miniaturized, a little bigger than a pea.
Hermione froze and stared at it. The light made her nauseous with pain, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. It illuminated almost the entire room.
“That is the magical signature of your heir,” Stroud informed Malfoy.
Hermione's eyes darted over to Malfoy; he looked rather as though someone had struck him upside the head with a bludger bat. His face was ashen and he looked half-dazed.
“The fluttering is the heartbeat. The size corresponds to the growth of the fetus. And the brightness indicates the magic levels; which are exceptional, as I had predicted.” Healer Stroud's last words were smug. “Although it may make the pregnancy more traumatic for her. Powerful children often do.”
Stroud glanced over at Hermione and gave an insincere smile.
Stroud spent several minutes casting various spells on the orb of light and on Hermione; finally she cast one on Hermione's head. Hermione looked up. The glowing lights scattered across her brain all seemed the same, except there was a faint tinge of gold to the light.
Healer Stroud turned toward Malfoy.
“Have you checked her memories recently?”
“I have not,” he said. “She's already suffered one seizure from having legilimency performed on her when her hormone levels were elevated. I'll wait until her migraines and morning sickness pass. Legilimency is invasive and traumatic, regardless of the familiarity of magical signature.”
Healer Stroud nodded. “It's likely the migraines are primarily due to the fugues. Headaches during pregnancy are not uncommon, but the levels of pain the diagnostic is indicating are exceeding would be regarded as normal.”
Malfoy's expression tightened.
“Is there anything that can be done?” he asked.
“Prescribing pain relief potions during pregnancy isn't advisable. It can result in fetal abnormalities or miscarriage in the early stages of pregnancy,” Stroud said. “You could try Muggle pain relief, if you're that concerned, but usually magically induced maladies require magical treatment.”
Malfoy eyed Stroud skeptically. Stroud jutted her chin up. “If you don't believe me, you're welcome to get a second opinion or bring in a midwife to corroborate it. The mind healer informed you that the corrosion process would likely be excruciating. It's not as though anyone has ever created individual magical fugues around hundreds of their memories before. Magical corrosion is as painful as it sounds. The magic level of your heir is likely accelerating the process, but we don't have any idea of how long it might take. It's possible that once her hormone levels rebalance the severity of the pain will ease somewhat. But it's equally likely that the corrosion process with stay this way for the duration of the pregnancy. It's impossible to predict. There's really nothing that can be done about it. There are safe potions for keeping her hydrated and from starving that can be administered if she can keep them down. However, unless she loses a dangerous amount of weight or starts screaming from the pain, interfering could risk her or the pregnancy and do little more than extend the process.”
Malfoy's jaw clenched. “Fine.”
Stroud left shortly after that, but Malfoy stayed behind, staring down at Hermione.
She closed her eyes, and tried not to dwell on how miserable she felt and that she might stay that way for another thirty-four weeks. Her head hurt too much to even think. She tried to will herself to sleep. The tiny glowing orb of light appeared fluttering in her mind's eye and she curled more protectively around her stomach.
She felt the bed shift and cool fingers touched her cheek, brushing back her hair and then resting against her forehead. She bit her lip and fought against crying.
She was so tired of crying.
She tried to pretend it was someone else. It's Harry. It's Ron. It's your mum, she told herself; she didn't force herself to draw away from the touch.
After another week, she began to wonder if she were going die from the pregnancy. Despite the advanced science of obstetrical healing, Magical intervention in pregnancy was extremely limited. Magical pregnancies tended to either neutralise or react extremely badly to external magical influences.
Hermione could keep herself slightly hydrated. Topsy dosed her with hydration and nutrition potions multiple times a day, but Hermione could rarely keep them down for the few seconds necessary for her system to absorb them.