by Van © 2023
		Chapter 7

It was morning.  Hermione could tell by the angle of the beams of sunlight streaming through the narrow window set in the thick stone-wall of her medieval bedchamber.

Hermione blinked her brown eyes.  Bedchamber?  Her last memory was of what had happened to her in the Throne Room, where she's been, uh, tortured to the point of orgasm and had hallucinated that the Lady of the Lake had barged in at the end, right before she (Hermione) was overcome by an unendurable wave of ecstasy and then passed out.  And now she was in a medieval bedchamber.  What was happening?

Hermione threw back the top-sheet and blanket of her comfy bed and sat upright... which was accompanied by an unanticipated cacophony of melodic metallic tinkling and rattling.  She was naked (still naked) but obviously not tied up with hemp rope.  Instead, she was locked in a full set of steel "slave-chains," meaning a collar, wrist-cuffs, waist-belt, and ankle-cuffs, all connected by generous lengths of thin, lightweight, but undeniably strong steel chain!

On the fashion front, the cuffs and belt were richly and elaborately engraved in an attractive Celtic knot pattern.  Hermione assumed her collar was engraved with a similar motif, but (of course) it was around her neck and therefore out of sight.  However, her questing fingers could feel for the engraving, she did so, and confirmed that the engravings were most certaily present.  Also, Hermione realized that "locked" was an imprecise characterization.  The cuffs and belt had no seams, hinges, or keyholes.  Magically fused or traumatically joined would be better descriptions.  Also of note, taken as a whole the chain-set was only loosely restraining.

In addition to the comfy bed, the bedroom included a wardrobe, a writing desk, the concomitant writing chair, and a full-length standing mirror.  The appointments were utilitarian, well made, and simple in design, but far too stylish to be called "dungeon furniture."

Hermione swung her chained feet off the mattress, planted her bare feet on the simple rug beside the bed, stood, and padded to the mirror (rattling as she went).  She was pleased (her bare feet especially) to find that the stone floor beyond the rug was cool but not cold.  She stood in front of the mirror and slowly turned, frowning at her naked reflection and its steel "accessories."

Gazing at her reflection, she could now visually confirm that the collar was engraved with Celtic knots and it matched the cuffs and belt in thickness and width.  A pair of steel rings dangled from the collar's front and back, single rings from each of the wrist and ankle-cuffs, and a final ring from the back of the belt.  A long horizontal chain linked the wrist-cuffs and ankle-cuffs.  Also, a vertical chain dangled from the ring in the back of the collar, passed through the ring in the back of the belt, and was connected to the center of the chains connecting the pairs of cuffs.  Finally, the terminal link of the vertical chain lifted the ankle-cuff-chain clear of the floor.  Hermione's steps were only slightly impeded.  The wrist-cuffs' connecting chain was longer and even more generous, so only its weight restricted the range of motion of her arms.  The weight of the steel was noticeable, but for the moment could easily be ignored.

The behind-the-back configuration of the chains was unusual—not that Hermione was an expert in what she believed were popularly referred to as "slave chains"—and oh-by-the-way, the arrangement carried with it the discomforting feature of smooth, slithering, cool steel links bumping and brushing against her butt-cheeks and even sliding along her butt-crack when she moved!  Granted, the links weren't actually intrusive, and it was undeniable that being encumbered by loose chains was far preferable to being tightly bound to a wooden post or suspended in mid-air from a web of tightly hitched and cinched rope.

As Hermione completed her visual/tactile inspection/evaluation of her elegant chain ensemble, she realized that while unconscious her body had been the beneficiary a thorough washing.  Also, her brown tresses had been shampooed, dried, brushed, and combed.  At the moment her hair was loose and framing her pouting face, and happily this happened to be Hermione's preferred coif when she decided it wasn't more appropriate to confine her locks in a ponytail or bun.

Just then the chamber's heavy door swung open and Enyd Waara entered.  The Junior Giggle Witch was wearing her usual black, ancient-style, rather revealing gown and smiling her usual quirky and dimpled smile.  Her brown hair was loose (like Hermione's), framed her face (also like Hermione), and fluttered behind her more-or-less bare back as she padded forward on bare feet.

"Good morning, Madam Undersecretary," Enyd beamed, greeting the glowering, naked, prisoner-in-chains.

"Good morning," Hermione muttered in response.  (Nude captivity is no excuse for bad manners.)

"I'm here to take you to breakfast," Enyd purred as she produced her wand.

Hermione's stomach growled at the mention of food.  She was definitely pro-breakfast; however—"Hey!"—Enyd had waved her wand and Hermione's chains had changed in response!  Specifically (and accompanied by a rather musical rattle), the chain linking her wrist-cuffs had rapidly and irresistibly shortened itself, and in the process had dragged her hands behind her back until her cuffs were more-or-less closely joined through the ring in the back of her belt!

"Oh, bother!" Hermione complained, tugged on her now cuffed-together wrists, stamped her still loosely chained bare feet, twisted her waist in the steel belt, and rolled her shoulders.  She also shook her now slightly tousled hair from her face and glowered at Enyd.  "Is this really necessary?" she demanded.

"Sorry," Enyd shrugged, her smile unchanged.  "Glăsióga Court Protocol."

"This is... discourteous!" Hermione huffed, scowling and continuing to stomp her bare feet and rattle her ankle-chain.  This added metallic musical accompaniment to her obvious displeasure.

"I really am sorry for your continued captivity," Enyd sighed (still smiling), "and my sister feels the same way.  We had no idea you were the Hermione Granger, the famous sidekick of the famous Harry Potter."  She gave an apologetic shrug,  "Unfortunately, Queen Gael insists you must remain her prisoner.  If it was up to us..."

"At least you could provide appropriate clothing," Hermione huffed, stamping her right foot a single time.

"Sorry, Lady Granger-Weasel.  Protocol precludes apparel."  Enyd conjured a chain leash, slipped her right wrist into the attached leather loop, then clicked the steel snap at the other through the ring in the front of Hermione's collar.  "Time for walkies," she purred with a sly (quirky) smile, then stepped off.

"Granger-Weasley, not Weasel!" Hermione protested, but then the leash snapped taut and she was forced to follow her grinning guide.  "Most discourteous," she huffed.

Breakfast was a truly delicious porridge with chopped nuts, ripe berries, and a generous dollop of cream.  It was accompanied by fruit, sausages, poached eggs, biscuits with butter and honey, and (of course) tea.  The fare was decidedly yummy, albeit slightly fey in nature.  Hermione remembered enjoying similar repasts while a guest of the Wood Elves.

The meal happened in a large communal dining room with only Hermione and Enyd present and sitting opposite one another at one of the several long trestle-style tables.  Where everybody else might be Hermione had no idea, and as soon as she sat down her ankle-chain magically shortened itself until her bare feet were side-by-side, making it crystal clear that she was to remain seated until the conclusion of the meal.  Simultaneously, her wrist-chain lengthened itself, restoring near total freedom of motion to her arms and hands.  Then, the food magically appeared (just like in the dining room back at dear ol' Hogwarts) and they began to eat.

Hermione was far from happy, but at the same time she was slightly bewildered by what she realized was a somewhat blasé attitude towards everything that was happening.  She had complained to Enyd about her continued nudity and captivity, thereby registering the required protestations and remonstrances, but for some inexplicable reason she wasn't really all that upset.  Perhaps it was the lingering aftereffects of the incredible ordeal of the Orgasmic Torture Ceremony back in the Throne Room...  that should have been dispelled by the rejuvenating night's sleep she'd enjoyed afterwards.  The bottom line was... Hermione was properly outraged and irate... but her heart just wasn't in it.  This was puzzling... after a fashion.

Meanwhile, as they ate, Enyd was a virtual cornucopia of significant information, and it was exactly the sort of intelligence Hermione had been craving ever since they'd been captured.

And speaking of "they," Enyd confirmed that Elspeth was elsewhere in the Keep and being schooled on the proper handling of her newly emerged Human/Fox Metamorphmagus nature.  Purportedly, she was "perfectly fine."  Hermione believed the Junior Giggle Witch, but very much wanted to be reunited with her Protective Detail as soon as possible in order to assess her situation for herself.  That said, Enyd's words were reassuring.

Next, Enyd shared the reasons behind the Glăsióga's Throne Room Torture Ceremony.  Supposedly, it extracted toxins from the "volunteer's" body, toxins that the Green Elves then used to produce highly potent and greatly prized healing potions.  Hermione was all for toxin removal, and she was an advocate of healing potions as well.  Healing potions were a good thing; however, she resented serving as an involuntary resource for the required raw materials and especially resented being subjected to prolonged and unauthorized erotic titillation while bound, gagged, and naked!  She shared these sentiments with Enyd as politely as she could, but the Junior Giggle Witch countered that, in their defense, the Glăsióga harbored a longstanding animus towards the Ministry of Magic.  Ancient history was involved.  Also, the Waara sisters were guests of The Queen and had no power to intervene.

This did little to assuage Hermione's negative feelings about recent events, but clearly it was her duty to learn as much as she could about the cause of the Glăsióga's attitude and resolve the situation.  If she had anything to say about it, the Ministry would do everything it could to mend the proverbial fences and restore (or establish) proper relations with the heretofore thought-to-be-extinct Green Elves.  In any case, it was worth a try.  Diplomacy is always worth a try.

Also, Enyd explained that the title of "Giggle Witch" was bestowed on the local human who accepted the post of liaison between the Glăsióga and the humans of Giggleswick and the surrounding region.  It was usually a solitary position, but Queen Gikel agreed to appoint both Waara sisters.  Apparently, multiple simultaneous Giggle Witches was not without precedent.  Anyway, the main duty of a Giggle Witch was to manage the many human volunteers that wished to undergo the extraction process and, to Hermione's amazement, Enyd claimed there was no shortage of villagers eager to participate.

Hermione was aghast!  "Why would anyone want to be stripped naked, tied up, gagged, and tickled to distraction by a swarm of glowing white orbs?" she demanded.

In response, the Junior Giggle Witch erupted in giggling laugher.  (Hermione thought it was very cute—especially Enyd's decidedly quirky and deeply dimpled smile—but that was neither here nor there.)

"I told you," Enyd explained once she settled down, "the ceremony removes toxins from the system.  This not only improves the volunteer's general health but also promotes longevity.  My sister and I undergo regular extractions."  Her quirky smile widened.  "It's one of the perks of the position."

Hermione frowned.  "The Ministry knows nothing of this.  The Department of Magical Medicine should be regulating the process."

"We are in the Green Wood," Enyd pointed out, "beyond even the notional control of the Ministry... and by solemn treaty I might add.  My sister and I 'regulate' the process... on Her Majesty's behalf."

Hermione nodded.  She supposed Enyd was right... and given the recent history of the Ministry in the Mundane Realm it was probably just as well.  During the Second Wizarding War the MoM had been completely subverted by Tom Riddle and his Deatheaters.  It might be just as well that the Ministry had been totally ignorant of the Glăsióga and their valuable potions.  Also, there were powerful fey in the Green Wood.  If Deatheaters or other unscrupulous witches and wizards (Ministry officials included) had tried to exploit the situation, the result could easily have been war between the two Realms, a war the humans might very well have lost!

"I suppose you're correct," Hermione conceded quietly, then sipped the last of her tea.  Her bowl and plate were already empty.  "In any case, I'll have to brief Minister Shacklebolt and his cabinet when I return to London.  Discretely, of course.  I'm sure he'll want to send a delegation to Queen Gikel to negotiate a treaty and reconcile relations."

Enyd continued smiling her dimpled, quirky smile as she gracefully stood.  "That assumes Her Majesty decides to let you return to London, of course," Enyd purred, then produced her wand, gave it a wave.  Once again Hermione's ankle-chains lengthened, allowing her to stand, while at the same time her wrist-chains shortened and once again inexorably pulled her hands behind her back.

This did not improve Hermione's mood.  "Oh!" she complained (whined) and favored Enyd with a petulant pout.

"Come," Enyd said, still smiling.  "My orders are to bring you to Her Majesty as soon as we finish eating."

Hermione's leash was once again in Enyd's hand, so she had no choice but to follow as they padded from the Communal Dining Hall.  Hermione's mood had soured and her yummy breakfast was now a cold lump in her tummy.  Also, Enyd's quirky smile and dimpled cheeks didn't seem quite as cute.  Hermione had been very much hoping that her "hosts" were ready to let her go, but Enyd had just hinted that perhaps that was not the case.

The chosen venue for the Royal Audience was neither the Throne Room nor anything like the Medieval/Rococo parlor where Hermione was first presented to The Queen.  Instead, and to Hermione's surprise and consternation, Enyd led her down a winding staircase... along a long corridor... through a set of heavy wooden doors... and into a subterranean bath!

The chamber was nearly as large as the Throne Room, the air hot and humid, and was lit by shafts of light streaming through a multitude of barred windows set very high in its vaulted ceiling.  Tendrils of steam rose from the rippling waters of the very large pool that comprised most of the chamber.  Numbers of naked female Glăsióga courtiers stood around all the edges of the pool, chatting among themselves, or were swimming or floating in the obviously quite warm water.

Of particular note was a party of Green Elves sitting in a row on what was probably a submerged stone bench built against the far side of the pool.  From Hermione's left to right, the group was comprised of a handful of unknown green courtiers—Heddwyn, the Senior Giggle Witch—Nimue, the Lady of the Lake—Her Majesty Queen Gael—and a second handful of unknown green courtiers.

And oh-by-the-way, Heddwyn was not only naked (like the other bathers), but was cleave-gagged by a tight, narrowly folded white linen cloth, and was elaborately bound with hemp rope (very much not like the other bathers).

Hermione frowned and turned towards Enyd.  "Why is your sister—Eeeeee!"  SPLASH!  Outrageously, the junior Waara sister had given her a businesslike shove into the pool!

The weight of her chains carried Hermione to the bottom, but fortunately the pool was reasonably shallow.  She planted her fettered feet, stood, and her sputtering head and bare shoulders emerged from the churning water.  The irate involuntary bather shook the wet hair from her face (with limited success), and glared at the grinning Enyd.

"How dare you!" Hermione scolded.

"Sorry," Enyd responded (rather insincerely), then turned to the long wooden rack against the stone wall to the right of the chamber entrance, disrobed, and hung her black gown from one of the rack's many convenient pegs.  Already on the rack hung a multitude green gowns, as well as two other black gowns that Hermione assumed belonged to Nimue and Heddwyn.  Now totally nude, Enyd turned and gracefully executed a shallow overhead dive into the pool.

Hermione couldn't complain about the water (other than it was making her involuntarily wet),  It was comfortably warm (borderline hot) and had the turquoise tint associated with dissolved minerals.  Perhaps she was immersed in the waters of a natural hot spring that had been diverted to the man-made (or elf-made) pool.  She continued glowering at Enyd as she swam close, using the breaststroke and smiling her quirky and formerly cute but now highly irritating smile.

"That was most inconsiderate," Hermione observed coldly.

"I wasn't trying to drown you," Enyd chuckled.  "Her Majesty would have been disappointed."

"Hey!" Hermione complained.  Before she could continue her critique of Enyd's socially questionable behavior the Junior Giggle Witch had embraced her from behind and to one side!  Her right arm was now across Hermione's right shoulder and passing between her breasts!  And now she was swimming away, taking Hermione with her in what the indignant Undersecretary believed was termed a "rescue carry."  As they were both now completely naked, the close, wet, skin-on-skin contact was most distressing... at last for Hermione.  Enyd seemed unconcerned.

"Oooh!" Hermione quietly whined, blushing in mortification—either that or her face was flushed from the hot water.  Anyway, by the time they'd progressed the width of the pool, Hermione's resentment at being summarily dumped into the watery unknown had subsided, but now she faced the discombobulation of being presented to the naked Queen while naked herself, and with the gorgeous and equally naked Lady of the Lake smiling and watching!

"As you ordered, Your Majesty," Enyd formally stated as she released Hermione and executed a sloshing curtsy.

"Yes, yes, of course," The Queen responded.  "Move down, everyone," she ordered, and the lounging members of her court—including her distinguished human guest and the bound and gagged Senior Giggle Witch—shuffled and rearranged themselves.  Nimue pulled Hermione forward and she found herself seated on the submerged stone bench and sandwiched between the Royal Person and The Lady of the Lake!

Meanwhile, Enyd had found a place next to her naked, bound, and gagged big sister.

The order was now: green courtiers—Enyd—Her Majesty—Hermione—Nimue—Heddwyn—and green courtiers.

Nimue realized Hermione was leaning slightly forward and staring at Heddwyn with politely veiled curiosity.  "Her Majesty has gifted me with her Senior Giggle Witch for a period of six months," the Lady explained.  "She will be my guest at the cottage."  Her left arm was draped across Heddwyn's shoulders and she gave the captive Senior Giggle Witch a sideways hug.  "I saw those magnificent breasts and simply had to have her.  We're going to have so much fun once I get her home."

Hermione noted that the bulging "magnificent breasts" in question were being squeezed by several tight coils each of hemp and had taken on a slight blush.  Also, the breast-bindings were incorporated in the rest of Heddwyn's upper-body bondage, and by what Hermione could see through the rippling water, her total predicament was yet another sterling example of elaborate and stylish magical rope restraint.  Hermione's facial blush deepened until her cheeks were noticeably more red than the Senior Giggle Witch's bulging bristols.

Meanwhile Heddwyn had turned her head and was glaring across the length of the group at her little sister in gagged resentment, but Enyd seemed unconcerned.  Obviously, something contentious divided the siblings, but Heddwyn was gagged and Enyd was disinclined to shed any light on the dispute.  It was one more minor source of frustration for poor, information deprived, and much-put-upon Hermione.

Queen Gael spoke, but Hermione was distracted by her close proximity to the naked bodies of Her Majesty and Nimue, her own naked captivity, and the splashing and lounging naked presence of the other members of the bathing court.  She realized all eyes were focused on her—and also realized she'd been addressed by the diminutive, naked, and green monarch and she hadn't responded, an egregious breach of Court Etiquette!

"I-I beg your pardon, Your Majesty," Hermione stammered.  "I was... distracted."  She then gasped and turned to Nimue.  "Please stop!" she huffed, squirming in place and tugging on her steel bonds.  The Lady of the Lake had proven herself to also be The Lady of the Hands by giving Hermione's right breast a "sympathetic" squeeze.

Nimue released her hand, but her smile remained mischievously coy.  Clearly, she was enjoying Hermione's discomfiture.  If they weren't such good friends Hermione might very well have taken umbrage.

The Queen was also smiling.  "As I was saying," she purred, "despite my skepticism, Lady Nimue has convinced me to visit the subject of normalizing relations with your Ministry of Magic.  We shall meet this afternoon, after finishing our bath and enjoying a light luncheon."

"T-that would be wonderful, Your Majesty," Hermione responded, and she very much meant it—but then she frowned and nudged Nimue's thigh with her own.  "Please stop!" she hissed in an annoyed whisper.  Once again Nimue was squeezing her breast, and the intimate contact was unacceptable!

Queen Gael chuckled.  "What was that, Lady Granger-Weasel?  What is it you wish us to stop?"

"Not you, Your Majesty," Hermione answered, continuing to stare daggers at Nimue... who was serenely and mischievously smiling back.  It was infuriating.

Suddenly, there was a rollicking commotion of some sort on the far side of the pool, somewhere beyond a row of standing courtiers and interrupting their conversations.  Yipping vocalizations and high pitched giggling laughter echoed across the chamber—the courtiers parted—a tiny green naked girl riding bareback on a large fox appeared—and the fox ran full tilt into the water with its rider still giggling and hanging onto the scruff of its neck!  Fox and rider disappeared into the watery depths!

Hermione blinked in confusion.  A fox!  ...  Elspeth?

Meanwhile, a trail of bubbles was crossing the churning waters and approaching the Royal Party.  ...  Then, a few feet away, the bubbles became a roiling disturbance and abruptly a human redhead and the Glăsióga girl broke the surface!  Both were naked and laughing (or giggling in the case of the diminutive girl).  Of course the redhead was Elspeth!  Hermione's Protective Detail remained where she was, treading water while the girl made a splashing, giggling, otter-like beeline for The Queen—who opened her arms and pulled the tiny green swimmer into a warm embrace.

"There's my precious Princess," Her Majesty chuckled.

"Stop squeezing, Mamaw!" the girl protested.

Hermione couldn't help but smile.  The Glăsióga youngster presented the form and features of a very petite human six-year-old, only green.  Also, she was incredibly cute, downright adorable!

"My apologies, Your Majesty," Elspeth said, smiling and continuing to tread water, "but Princess Glenna insisted on disturbing your bath."

"Silly fox!" the Princess (who apparently was named Glenna) objected, pointing in an imperious manner in Elspeth's smiling direction.  "She made me, Mamaw!"

"Did she now?" the Queen chuckled, then planted a kiss on her daughter's cheek, lifted her out of the water and handed her to one of her courtiers on dry land who was approaching with a fluffy towel.  "We'll play later, dearest."

"Promise?" Glenna demanded.

"Promise!" the Princess' mother confirmed.  Then, the Royal Smile faded as she turned back to Elspeth.  "As for you, young vixen," Her Majesty intoned as she lifted her right hand and made an arcane gesture.

The water surrounding Elspeth churned with renewed violence as hemp rope emerged from the depths and wrapped itself around the naked redhead's body!  "Glub!"  That was all Elspeth had time to say before she was dragged underwater, her green eyes wide with alarm!

The water continued churning... a myriad of bubbles rose and popped... then Elspeth bobbed back to the surface, now bound and gagged with hemp rope!  "Mrrrpfh!"

Elspeth's bondage was as intricate and stylish as anything Hermione had witnessed (or experienced) since becoming a guest/prisoner of the Glăsióga, at least what she could see of it above and through the distortion of the rippling water—and it included a combination bit-gag/cleave-gag of wrapped hemp that also included a tight and elaborate head-harness to make very sure it remained in place.

Nimue leaned close and whispered in Hermione's ear.  "While Elspeth learns to deal with her newly discovered dual nature, precautions must be taken to insure the trickster nature of the fox doesn't overpower her human personality.  Hence, the bondage."

"B-bondage?" Hermione whispered back.

Nimue nodded.  "It helps," she purred.  "Believe me."

Hermione frowned.  Elspeth was quite obviously helpless and well-gagged, but she didn't seem especially upset.  Hermione's frown faded and was replaced by a wry smile.  "Is that why I'm being kept in bondage of some sort at all the times," she purred back, "to control my trickster nature?"

Nimue smile broadened and she winked, but didn't otherwise answer.

Meanwhile, the Royal Party had made room for the newly arrived ginger prisoner.  Hermione was still sandwiched between The Queen and the Lady of the Lake, but now Elspeth was between The Queen and Enyd.  Heddwyn remained close against Nimue's right side.

Nimue had one arm over Hermione's shoulders and the other over Heddwyn's.  Her Majesty was smiling and relaxing in the warm water with her eyes closed.  Enyd (smiling her usual quirky smile) had one of her arms over Elspeth's shoulders and was gently squeezing the bound and gagged Auror's left breast with her free hand.  It was a very cozy group.  In fact, in Hermione's opinion, it was a scandalously cozy group.

Queen Gael opened her eyes and gazed up at Nimue.  "Remind me of what it was you suggested I tell Lady Granger-Weasel."

Nimue smiled.  "Just that Her Majesty should reassure her that the extraction ceremony will in no way affect her unborn child."

Her Majesty frowned.  "Harm?" she snapped.  "Extraction benefits both mother and child.  Don't be absurd."

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Hermione said quietly, "but my husband's last name is..."  Suddenly, her brown eyes popped wide and she turned to Nimue.  "What did you say?"

"Your husband's family name is 'Wadidyasay?'" The Queen chuckled.  "How unusual, even for humans.  If I were them I'd stick with 'Weasel.'"

Nimue smiled at Hermione's astonished face.  "You heard me, darling.  You're pregnant.  Not very pregnant.  In fact, you're just barely pregnant.  But you are pregnant."

"Of course she's pregnant," The Queen huffed.  "How could she not know she's pregnant?  She's glowing with two distinct but similar auras, isn't she?"

Nimue shifted her smile to Queen Gael.  "We humans usually don't know we're carrying until we realize our moon cycles have been interrupted, and even then it remains a suspicion until we begin to grow large."

"I see," Her Majesty sighed.  "How peculiar."

In the back of her mind, Hermione filed away the information that The Lady of the Lake had just confirmed that she was, in fact, human, something that was a minor point of contention among certain magical historians—but mainly...  I'm pregnant!?  She focused on Nimue's smiling green eyes.  "Truly?"

Nimue nodded.  "Truly.  You know I have the gift of prophecy."

"One gift of many," The Queen chuckled.

"I have foreseen the arrival of your 'Rose' for some time," Nimue continued.  "She will be stunningly attractive, with flaming red hair like her father.  A genuine ginger beauty... like Elspeth."  The Lady of the Lake reached out and gently used her fingers to comb the errant strands of Hermione's wet hair from her astonished face.  "Beautiful like her mother."

Hermione was speechless... and she wasn't even gagged.

"Yes, yes," The Queen said with an impatient gesture.  "In any case, the Extraction Ceremony removes toxins, as has already been explained, and is therefore beneficial for mother and child.  Now, everyone relax.  I believe lunch will be egg salad sandwiched with roasted peppers and onions on rye bread, and mushroom pie."

Hermione stared into the distance and tried not to cry with happiness.  It has to be true!  I'm pregnant!  She'd discussed starting a family with Ron, and they'd decided their firstborn would be named 'Rose,' if a girl and 'Hugo,' if a boy.  How could Nimue possibly know that we'd name her Rose unless she'd foreseen it?  Hermione had always considered prophecy to be the least reliable of all the recognized magical talents, but it did exist.

"And for now, no more discussion of Ministry intrusions into the Green Wood," Her Majesty intoned.  "We'll discuss it this afternoon and not before."

"Yes, Your Majesty," everyone intoned, more-or-less in unison.

The Royal Bath continued, Hermione remained naked and in chains, and Elspeth remained naked and elaborately bound and gagged with hemp rope.  Lunch did include egg salad sandwiches with roasted peppers and onions on rye and mushroom pie, and the diplomatic conference afterwards proved to be quite productive.