Hermione thought she might have sensed motion but it was difficult to tell from her metal prison, time no longer had meaning, the only stimulus she received was the infrequent times that her mouth plug was removed when she serviced some random Ministry Functionary. Otherwise she would need to wait until she was dismissed to her docking port, where memories of her worst debasement (pumped through her pensieve port) felt like a treat and respite from her daily monotony. She wasn’t sure if it was possible, but it seemed like these downtime periods were getting less and less frequent, she suspected that someone had programmed her wheels to do fruitless circuits of the Ministry building, to keep her in idle motion. She tried to recall the glorious feeling of her last visit to Hogwarts, the frisson of excitement to be in the presence of Voldermort was transcendent and when the Dark Lord shat in her mouth after she completed her delivery of a secret parchment. She momentarily was overwhelmed by feelings and sensations, but instead all she could recollect was the drowning sensation of her House Elf Master washing out her mouth and running the punishment cycles of the implements installed in her nether regions over and over again. She had long since realised she was subsisting in the darkest timeline wishing for the oblivion of death, knowing her torment was eternal.