She wasn't sure if she actually was suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum, or if most of the nausea and vomiting was caused by the migraines. If she ate anything, she would immediately vomit and then retch until she was sobbing from the additional pain it caused her head.
She lost almost all her muscle tone.
She lay limply in bed in her darkened room and wished she'd die.
Malfoy came; often, she thought. He brought several mind healers who just stuttered nervously around him and offered no helpful advice. He brought midwives and obstetrical healers who cooed over his heir's magic levels and prescribed even worse tasting potions for Hermione to vomit up.
She suspected Malfoy came sometimes when she was asleep, because her over-sensitive nose would often detect his scent in the room. When he came when she was awake, she was hardly more responsive.
He would sit down on the edge of her bed and smooth her hair, and sometimes he would take her wrist and pull her hand into his. The first time he did it she thought he was playing with her fingers, but gradually she realised he was massaging her hand; tapping the tip of his wand across it at various pressure points, sending mild vibrations into the muscles. Then he'd bend and massage her fingers and palm lightly.
He was doing what healers did to treat the tremors from the cruciatus, she realised. He must have memorised the technique due to how frequently he needed the treatment.
She didn't pull her hand away.
She told herself it was only because it might make her head hurt more if she moved.
As the end of May approached, her head steadily hurt more and more. She grew thinner and thinner until the manacles could slide halfway up her forearms. Topsy became fretful and began to meet Hermione's eyes as she softly entreated Hermione to try to swallow more potions or sip on some peppermint or ginger tea.
Malfoy began to hover. He had to leave to 'hunt' and perform other duties that Hermione tried not to think about, but he was often in her room. He didn't talk to her. He rarely met her eyes, but he smoothed her hair, and held her hands and fidgeted with the manacles around her wrists. Sometimes when she opened her eyes she'd find him staring at her stomach, but he never tried to touch it.
She was almost nine weeks pregnant when she abruptly woke up panicking.
There was something — something she needed to be ready for.
She couldn't remember—
It was important.
The most important thing. The thing she couldn't forget.
She needed to be ready.
No matter what. She was supposed to hold on.
She forced herself out of the bed. The pain of being upright had her gasping. She clutched her head. She forced herself to stand.
She had to—
She couldn't remember. It was right at the edge.
Her legs trembled from the muscle atrophy. She forced herself to walk and tried not to panic.
She was supposed to be doing — something.
What was it?
Topsy appeared. “Is you needing anything?”
“No,” Hermione said in a shaking voice as she wracked her mind and tried to think. Oh god, what was it? Her heart started to race as she struggled to remember. To think through the blinding pain.
There were black spots steadily dancing in her vision, growing larger and larger. The pain in her head kept growing.
Malfoy was suddenly in front of her. Did he apparate? She didn't hear it.
“What—?” he started and broke off when he found her standing in front of him.
“I — can't — remember...,” she forced out. “I'm— supposed to — hold—”
Her voice broke off in a low cry as the pressure in her head grew so intense she thought she'd pass out. Her vision wavered. She blinked, trying to see, and when her sight cleared she found Malfoy had a knife in his hand. She looked up at him, startled. His expression was cold and intent as he lunged toward her.
She fell back, trying instinctively to ward him off.
The moment before he stabbed her, Malfoy suddenly vanished.
Alastor Moody was standing in front of her. Grim-faced and tired.
Before Hermione could say anything, Moody was gone and she was falling.
No, she wasn't falling.