Chapter Text
Hermione watched them give Malfoy the news.
She saw his already pale face turn chalky white as he raked a trembling hand through his hair, wild blonde spikes sticking up through his fingers as he grasped at it, shaking his head and insisting no, that couldn’t be right, that the Healers must be mistaken.
She watched his chest heaving in his white button-down shirt as he began to panic, throwing down the robes he’d been clutching and rising from the blue plastic chair, demanding to be taken to his wife.
He shook off the Healer’s comforting hand as they led him away from the waiting area and down the corridor to the room where Astoria’s body lay.
Hermione watched him stride past the glass window of the operating theatre where she stood, his back ramrod straight, his face tight.
Draco Malfoy was the picture of a man in denial, unable to fully comprehend the terrible turn his night had taken - a night that should have been the happiest of his life.
He had been away on business when his wife Astoria had gone into labour four weeks early, arriving at the hospital as soon as he could, expecting news of an outcome that was very different from the one he had received.
There was a heavy silence as the healers led Malfoy into the room next door. Hermione couldn’t see, but she knew Astoria’s chief Healer would be talking to him, explaining that there had been nothing anyone could do.
He would tell him that they had exhausted all avenues, done everything they could think of to try and save Astoria's life, but that ultimately, her body had been too tired and they'd had no option but to let her go.
She knew they would take care to reassure Malfoy that she hadn't been in any pain at the end. The Healers had made certain of it.
Hermione had been there when Astoria Malfoy died - one of the Mediwitches on hand to monitor her unborn baby as they fought to keep Astoria’s heart beating, battling in vain as her fragile body gave in to the curse that had been poisoning her for years, the effects irrevocably exacerbated by her labour.
They’d known it was a risky delivery - had scrambled a crash team ready to receive mother and baby when the emergency Floo call had come in. When they had realised how dire Astoria's situation actually was, the focus for Hermione and her team had immediately been to ensure the swift delivery of her baby girl, who had miraculously been carried to almost full term and had the best chance of survival of the two.
Hermione had been handed the tiny baby, stunned and pale after being delivered quickly via c-section and got to work massaging her heart, increasing her oxygen levels until she took in a deep, independent breath and filled with colour. Her little face had screwed up as she screamed the operating theatre down - the sound like music to the ears of all the medical professionals in the room.
There was little evidence of the earlier chaos now, the detritus of the medical emergency all magically cleared away. The room was peaceful, the baby’s little snuffly breaths the only sound other than Hermione and her assistant Katie’s murmured observation spells.
Hermione leaned over the cot where the little girl lay, magically charmed to ensure she was just the right temperature and to inform Hermione if there were any changes to her breathing.
She was a tough little thing, Hermione thought - strong, despite how tiny she was. Since her birth she’d been poked and prodded countless times, the Healer’s tests confirming that she was thankfully unaffected by Astoria’s blood-curse and did not share the same affliction.
Draco Malfoy’s baby girl was perfectly healthy, and she was beautiful. Dainty and doll-like with delicate features like her mother, rosebud lips and clear grey eyes just like her father’s.
Having just been fed, the baby was settled now, but Hermione’s heart still ached as she gazed down at her.
Despite being born into a life where she would want for nothing materially, the little girl had no mother and a father who would now need to navigate his grief over his wife’s death on the very day he became a parent for the first time.
It was around fifteen minutes later that a broken-looking Draco Malfoy was led away from the viewing room, his chest hitching, his shoulders rounded. His earlier stoicism was gone along with his ability to deny the truth of the situation.
Hermione could see the shock etched on his face, his mind struggling to make the connection between what his future had been just hours earlier and what lay ahead of him now.
‘Are you going to get him?’ Katie asked, and Hermione nodded, although for the first time, she wished she could hand over the responsibility of her job to someone else.
She took a deep breath and left the operating theatre, heading into the private room reserved for bereaved family members. This was going to be one of the hardest things Hermione had ever done. Despite her history with Draco Malfoy, she could bring herself to feel nothing but compassion for him at this point in their lives. By all accounts, since leaving school, Malfoy had been dealt one tragedy after another, and now he had yet another battle to face. At the very least, he deserved her sympathy even if he didn’t want it.
Malfoy looked up as she entered the relatives room. He was sitting hunched over, one fist pressed against his mouth, his wedding ring glinting under the overhead lights.
She glanced to where his wand lay on the next seat, resting on top of a bunched-up set of robes and a discarded gift box - something expensively packaged in silver and black paper.
The silver eyes that met hers were red-rimmed, his once pristine white shirt rumpled, the collar undone.
Hermione could see no trace of the arrogant, spiteful boy she had once known. Grief seemed to have stripped him of anything other than raw anguish, visible in every taut line of his face.
‘Granger,’ his voice was rough.
‘Draco, hi.’ Hermione replied softly. Calling him Malfoy didn’t feel right given the situation. She sat down next to him, tucking her hands between her knees.
Several seconds passed before he spoke.
‘You were one of the Healers who worked on them?’
’Yes. I was there.’
Malfoy swallowed audibly.
‘Thank you. For trying with Astoria and for - saving my -‘ he broke off with a strangled sob.
They were silent for a moment as Malfoy gathered himself.
‘Can I see my daughter now?’
‘Of course,’ she replied, her chest tight.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Draco.’
She felt him tremble next to her, could hear his throat working as he fought to stay in control.
‘The baby, she’s okay?’
Hermione nodded. ‘She’s perfect.’
He let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes falling closed momentarily.
‘Do you want to follow me? I can take you to her.’ She asked, rising to stand. Malfoy nodded, but he didn’t move.
Hermione waited for a few moments, but he remained still, almost frozen in his chair.
‘Malfoy? Are you alright?’
His grey eyes were wet when he turned them back to hers, and the pain in them almost took Hermione’s breath away.
‘Astoria always wanted to be a mother.’ He said quietly. ‘It was her lifelong ambition.’
Hermione sat back down.
‘I-I didn’t know she’d stopped taking the contraceptive potion. We’d talked about it, but I thought we’d do more research first, ensure it was safe for her.’
He took in a shivering breath.
‘I was just so happy when she told me she was pregnant that I didn’t question it. She promised me it would be fine and I just…believed her.’
He gave a small, bitter laugh, his hands flexing on his thighs, fingers digging into the navy material of his trousers.
Hermione didn’t know why Malfoy was telling her this, why he felt the need to explain, but she remained quiet and let him speak, sensing his need to unburden himself to someone.
‘I should have seen that she was getting worse,’ he croaked. ‘I should have known it was more than morning sickness.’
Malfoy’s breathing had become elevated.
‘I’m a terrible husband. I was…busy with work. I wasn’t there enough. I - oh God. This is all - my fault - I did this to her - I should have- ‘
‘Draco.’
He had paled dramatically, his chest hitching.
‘Draco.’ Hermione said again, beginning to feel concerned. ‘Look at me.’
‘I - I can’t-‘ he stood up abruptly and began pacing around in a tight circle, panting raggedly.
‘I should have been there - because now Astoria is dead - and she’ll never get to be a mum - and - I don’t know what to do with a baby and -‘
He couldn’t finish, he was hyperventilating.
Hermione could see that if he carried on, he was going to pass out. He was going into shock.
‘Malfoy!’ Her voice was firm. ‘Please sit down before you fall down.’
He sat, collapsing into the chair, his entire body trembling. Hermione placed a tentative hand on his back, surreptitiously monitoring his galloping heart rate as he gulped in great heaving breaths.
‘It’s not your fault.’ She said quietly. ‘No one picked up on how sick Astoria was. Her chief Healer saw her last week and he didn’t note down any new concerns.’
‘But I’m her husband.’ He made a small choking sound. ‘Was, her husband.’
He bent forward, burying his face in his hands.
‘I should have been here.’ His voice was muffled.
Hermione said nothing for a moment. She knew Malfoy wouldn’t hear her words. He was too lost in his grief and in his guilt. It was a terrible set of circumstances, and nothing she said or did could make it any better.
‘Draco,’ she murmured when he was a little calmer, his breath still hitching a little.
Hermione put a hand on his arm.
‘You need to know - Astoria did get to meet her daughter, just for a moment. She smiled, and she- ‘
Hermione swallowed, suddenly afraid she was going to cry. It was important to stay professional.
‘-She looked peaceful after that.’
Malfoy lifted his head. He looked at her like she was a lifeline, like she’d just given him the most precious gift.
‘Sh-she did?’ He whispered. ‘Astoria saw the baby?’
‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘I made sure of it... I promised her that your daughter would be fine, reassured her that she was healthy.’
He stared at her for a long time, and Hermione could see that it was taking everything he had just to hold himself together.
‘Thank you,’ he said eventually, his breathing almost back to normal. ‘Thank you for telling me, Granger.’
They sat silently side by side for a moment.
‘Are you ready to go and meet your little girl?’
Malfoy nodded, and this time he unfolded his long body from his chair and stood, taking a deep breath.
‘I’m ready.’
The first time he saw his newborn daughter, Draco Malfoy completely fell apart.
Hermione had never seen a man so overcome. For someone historically so haughty and controlled, he absolutely dissolved.
He bent over his child, his hands gripping the sides of the cot as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. The sound he made was raw, wrenched from somewhere deep in his chest.
Hermione and Katie left the room for a few minutes, giving him some privacy.
Hermione could see through the glass that Malfoy was speaking to the baby, gazing down into the cot and talking and talking, although she couldn’t hear any of what he said. Silvery tears fell from his eyes, catching in the glow of the observation charms above the little girl.
‘How’s he doing?’
Hermione turned to see Chief Healer Jennings, Astoria’s lead Healer standing behind her.
‘As expected,’ she said quietly.
‘Poor bloke. You wouldn’t wish this on your worst enemy, would you?’
Hermione’s jaw tightened. She smoothed down her robes and pushed a loose curl out of her face.
‘Have the rest of the family been called?’ She asked, fighting to keep her voice steady.
‘Yes. Mr Malfoy gave us some contacts. The Greengrass family reside in France, and an international Portkey will take several hours. But there were a few other names on the list. We have someone sending owls as we speak.’
‘I hope someone comes soon.’ Hermione murmured. ‘He shouldn’t be alone with this.’
Healer Jennings murmured in agreement, glancing once more into the room.
‘Stay with the Malfoys tonight. We have enough staff to cover the main ward. That man is going to need all the help he can get.’
Twenty minutes later, Hermione re-entered the room. Draco’s face was still deathly pale, but he seemed to have himself back under control. She walked to stand next to him, peering down into the cot.
‘Do you have a name picked out?’
‘We’d agreed on Aurora if it was a girl.’ He smiled sadly. ‘It’s a family tradition.’
‘It’s beautiful.’ Hermione said, and she meant it.
‘Hello, baby Aurora.’
Malfoy stiffened next to her but said nothing, his eyes fixed on the baby’s face.
‘She’s so tiny.’ He murmured, and Hermione nodded.
‘She came a little early. She’s small but very strong.’
She indicated the monitoring diagnostics above the baby’s head, each light glowing brightly.
‘These let me know her heart rate, breathing rate, oxygen levels, and blood pressure. All are currently perfect.’
Malfoy looked up at them, frowning a little. She didn’t think he could read them, but he studied them nonetheless.
From within the cot, Aurora suddenly let out a small cry, and Malfoy jumped like a gun had gone off.
‘Shit.’ He said. ‘Is she okay? What do I do?’
Hermione smiled. ‘Get used to it,’ she said softly. ‘Babies tend to cry a lot. Do you want to sit down? I can give her to you.’
Malfoy froze.
Hermione had seen Draco Malfoy scared plenty of times before.
Aged seventeen at Malfoy Manor when she had been lying on the floor, screaming as Bellatrix carved a slur into her arm. Again, when he crossed the ruined courtyard of Hogwarts school to join his parents, embraced into the arms of a madman.
In media photographs, aged twenty-one when he’d stood trial in front of the Wizengamot, silent and stiff in the dock as they handed down his sentence.
But she didn’t think that any of those times he’d looked as utterly panic-stricken as he did now.
‘I - I don’t know how to hold something that small,’ he said, staring down at Aurora and then looking at his own large hands. ‘What if I hurt her?’
‘You won’t hurt her,’ Hermione replied. ‘I can show you how to hold her correctly. How to support her head.’
Aurora had settled now, but Hermione knew they didn’t have long - she’d need feeding soon.
She explained. ‘When babies are first born, they can’t hold up their own heads, it’s too heavy for them. When you pick them up, you must always put a hand behind the back of their head to support their neck. The other hand goes here, spread under their bum and back, so you’re cradling them.’
Hermione peeled back the blanket, pointing as she explained. Aurora was wearing a plain white babygrow they kept on hand in the hospital, her little legs scrunched up, not quite filling the feet holes.
She slipped one hand behind her velvety little blonde head, the other scooped under her bottom.
Malfoy watched her, rapt. His grey eyes were wide, never leaving his baby’s face.
‘Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘Go and sit in the chair over there. I’ll hand her to you.’
He swallowed hard but nodded, crossing the room and sitting down on the squashy green nursing chair. He stretched out his long legs and widened them, resting his elbows on the arms.
‘Like this?’
‘Yes,’ Hermione said. ‘Although, we’re going to do something a little extra.’
She rocked Aurora gently as she approached him. Malfoy’s gaze followed the baby, never taking his eyes off her for a second.
Hermione’s voice was soft when she spoke.
‘We’re going to do something called skin-to-skin contact. Usually this happens when the baby is first born.’ She explained carefully. ‘We place them on their mother’s chest. It helps with the bonding process for mother and baby.’ She could barely look Malfoy in the eye as she continued.
‘U-unfortunately, that wasn’t… possible for Aurora.’
Understanding dawned on his face, and Hermione thought she’d never seen anything so heartbreaking in her entire life.
‘But we can do it now,’ she said. ‘I’ll take off her babygrow and you can hold her against your chest. It will help her to feel secure and to feel your heartbeat. It will remind her of-‘ Hermione swallowed past the lump in her throat.
‘I can help you feed her like this too, so that she associates your scent with feeding time. It will make it more relaxing for her.’
Malfoy was utterly still. Every muscle in his body was rigid, but she could see his pulse fluttering rapidly in the side of his neck. After a moment or two, he let out a slow breath.
‘Alright.’
‘Okay,’ Hermione murmured. ‘You can open your shirt now, down to the waist.’
He nodded, his jaw tight as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt, pulling it looser from the band of his navy blue dress trousers and opening it to reveal an expanse of pale, scarred skin over a lightly muscled chest and abdomen. There were tattoos too, curling over his collarbone and shoulder, images Hermione couldn’t quite make out.
‘Great,’ she said, averting her eyes from the sight of the Sectumsempra scars, still so violent even after all these years.
Hermione placed Aurora back down in the crib momentarily. The baby fussed as Hermione gently undid the buttons of her babygrow, curling her little body in on itself as the air hit her warm skin. Hermione quickly picked her back up as she heard Malfoy shift behind her at the sound of Aurora’s soft cries, cradling the baby in her arms and stepping back towards him. He was breathing hard again, his eyes wide and anxious as he followed her movements, tensing up when Hermione stepped between his legs.
‘Ready?’
He nodded, and she bent, angling her elbow inside his shirt as she gently placed Aurora onto Malfoy’s bare chest. He seemed to be holding his breath as his hand came up to support her body, almost exactly like Hermione had shown him.
She gently moved his elbow so that the baby’s head rested on his bicep under his shirt and she was cocooned inside the expensive white cotton, her little body curled against her father’s abdomen, feet tucked, hands fisted tightly under her chin. Malfoy looked reverent, his eyes cast down at Aurora as he took over a little more and tightened his arms, cradling his daughter closer to him. Aurora instantly settled, her face turning into his chest, eyes closed.
‘There,’ Hermione whispered. ‘Perfect.’
Malfoy didn’t respond. He lowered his face and took in a deep, shaking breath, his eyes falling closed as he planted a tiny, soft kiss on the top of Aurora’s little peach-fuzz head.
Hermione stepped back, leaving them to have their moment. She turned away, back towards the crib, folding the babygrow and blanket, needing to give herself something to do as she got control of her own emotions.
Draco Malfoy and his daughter stayed that way for almost an hour, his face tipped down to hers, grey eyes roving over her features, seemingly unable to look anywhere else. He didn’t move, even as time ticked along and his arms must have been aching. He remained so still he could have been petrified, the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his occasional blinks the only interruption to his adoring examination of his daughter's face.
Hermione left the room several times and came back to find he still hadn’t moved. Eventually, she had to disturb them. Malfoy seemed loath to put her down but Aurora was getting fussy, rooting around and wriggling for a moment until her face screwed up, red and angry as she let loose a loud wail that absolutely frightened the life out of her father. Hermione showed him how to feed her, demonstrating how to measure out a bottle and heat it magically.
He fed Aurora standing up, rocking her slightly as she drained the bottle and then watching intently as Hermione showed him how to wind her. His large hand spanned the baby’s entire back as he rubbed and patted gently and then let out a soft sound of pleased surprise when she burped and an equally surprised sound of concern when she promptly brought a mouthful of milk back up onto his shoulder.
‘It’s alright,’ Hermione said with a smile as she vanished the wet spot. ‘A little spit up is perfectly normal.’
After that, the next inevitable mountain to climb was changing.
This went a lot less smoothly. Aurora was unhappy, her grumpiness increasing as Malfoy insisted on learning how to do it manually rather than magically at first.
‘Oh Jesus Christ.’ He paled as he opened the nappy and peeked inside. ‘Granger, why the fuck is it black?’
Hermione snorted a laugh at his use of the Muggle swear alongside his thoroughly overwrought reaction to a little bit of baby poo, but then she reminded herself how alien this all was to him and got back to the job at hand. She talked him through it, pointing out the various mechanics, demonstrating how to clean her and apply barrier cream. Malfoy listened attentively, but Hermione could see that he was overwhelmed.
The more Aurora complained, the more he panicked until he was hot and sweaty, his long fingers struggling with the wipes and then the small tabs to close the nappy. Malfoy was coiled tight with anxiety, terrified he was going to hurt her, and when Hermione showed him how to straighten Aurora’s legs to ensure the right fit, he practically bit her head off.
It took a long while for her to convince him this was the only way to manually put on a nappy, and eventually, he allowed Hermione to show him the magical way, finding that significantly easier and letting out a long sigh of relief once Aurora was finally clean and dressed again. He picked the baby up and held her to him like they’d just survived their first ordeal together.
‘You need to sleep when the baby sleeps.’ Hermione informed him another hour later when she reentered the room and found Malfoy still looming over the crib, dark smudges under his eyes, his hair dishevelled.
He shook his head vehemently.
‘What if she wakes up? What if she needs me?’
‘Draco,’ Hermione said. ‘Haven’t you noticed yet? Aurora definitely has the lungs to let you know when she needs you. She’s just had a feed, she’ll be okay for a little while.’ The corner of his mouth twitched up, but he shook his head resolutely again.
‘I’m not sleeping. I can’t.’
Another half hour later, she came back to find that he’d pulled the nursing chair up alongside the cot and fallen dead asleep, slumped sideways in the chair, one hand hanging limply over the side of the crib while Aurora dozed inside.
Hermione studied him for a moment.
Malfoy’s bottom lip pouted in repose, long lashes splayed over his cheeks. He looked younger without the hard lines of grief tightening his face, more like his seventeen-year-old self than the twenty-nine-year-old man he had become.
He was still wearing his shiny dress shoes, and although he’d buttoned his shirt, the cuffs were rolled. Hermione could see the Dark Mark on his forearm, faded and benign, but still as grotesque as ever against his pale skin.
Hermione’s own scarred forearm tingled in sympathy.
She debated moving him into a more comfortable position, but she knew how desperately Malfoy needed this rest and didn’t want to risk waking him.
Instead, she cast a gentle cushioning charm and then moved to check Aurora’s vitals again.
She was just about to creep out when there was suddenly an almighty racket from the corridor outside the room, loud voices and echoing footsteps.
‘Draco?’ A female voice called at a volume that was wholly inappropriately for a hospital at any time of day, let alone late at night.
Hermione cast a Tempus, realising with alarm that it was three am and her shift had technically finished two hours ago.
‘Where is he?’ The quiet of the ward was pierced again, ‘Malfoy?’
Hermione stood up, incensed. Who the hell was making such a racket at three in the morning on a hospital ward, and how had they even gotten in at this time of night?
Another voice, this one male, arguing with one of the healers on shift, their tone initially calm but getting steadily louder and more aggrieved until Hermione could hear every word.
‘Fuck off, mate. I don’t care what time it is and I don’t give a shit about visiting hours. We’re here for the Malfoys.’
Hermione glanced at Draco. He was still fast asleep.
She quickly cast a silencing charm and grabbed the door handle, stepping out of the room and into the corridor just in time to see Pansy Parkinson and Theodore Nott stalking their way towards her, closely followed by a severely disgruntled Mike Thompson, one of the other Healers on the night shift.
‘Granger!’ Pansy shouted, her stiletto heels clicking loudly over the tiled floor as she approached with Theo hot on her heels.
‘Hermione bloody Granger. Oh, thank god there’s someone with a brain cell around here. Can you help us find Malfoy? Do you know where he might be?’
She'd been crying. Hermione could see twin trails of black mascara staining her cheeks.
‘Shhh, please,’ Hermione whispered. ‘This is a hospital, ward, there are babies here.’
Her words died in her throat as Pansy glimpsed Malfoy through the glass window, her breath catching.
‘Theo! He’s here!’ She gasped, and before either Mike or Hermione could say another word, both she and Theo had pushed their way into the room.
Hermione could see through the glass, Malfoy jerking suddenly awake, his eyes flaring wide as he darted towards the crib, his hawthorn wand somehow already in his hand.
A moment later, he registered who the intruders were and all the fight immediately bled out of him as both Theo and Pansy stepped forward, wrapping their arms tightly around his shoulders.
Then, Hermione watched as Draco Malfoy fell apart all over again.