What's Best For Her

Epilogue

Three days later, Hermione gave birth to the next Malfoy heir.

The mediwitch explained it was the overwhelming physical and emotional stress she was under that caused the baby to come early. It was a quick, painless labor that resulted in a quiet little boy with a pink face and white blonde hair. Pansy was the one to bring her to the hospital; Pansy was the one never to leave her side.

Draco waited in the corner of the birthing room while his son was born. Careful not to say or touch anything. Hermione hadn't so much as looked at him during the delivery and wouldn't allow him to soothe her during the labor. Only after the child was cleaned and wrapped in a blanket did Draco step forward, desperate to see his son's face, desperate to praise Hermione for a job well done. Pansy left the room, giving them privacy as their son suckled at Hermione's chest. Draco approached as he would a wounded animal in only the darkest of forests.

She ripped the locket off her neck as soon as Draco held their son in his arms. Didn't care to watch the lone tear roll down as he looked at the face staring up at him, didn't care as the nurses came back in, informing him of the importance of skin-to-skin with the father in the first few hours. Draco sat in a chair by the window as the sun streamed in, shirtless with his baby on his chest. He called out for her, wanting to share the moment, but she wasn't there. Hermione lay in the hospital bed, suffering the after-birth contractions as if she deserved the pain. The only time he saw her eyes light up was when Pansy handed their son back to her.

Three months later.

Hermione looked out of the window into the gardens. It was a cold, dreary day in Wiltshire. She hadn't felt the sun in months, nor the wind, or heard the birds. All there was, was this window. This window looking out into the hedges, the roses, the fountains, the gazebo, to the plot that lay just beyond the hill under an old oak tree. She rocked her son in her arms. He was tightly wrapped in a blanket, his tiny head nestled in a bonnet. He made a small whimper as he dreamed, she quietly shushed him back to peace. Walking over to his crib, she gently placed him back in. She sat in the chair beside him, looking out the window into the nothingness of the world in front of her.

***

Ginny approached the grand white doorway into Hermione's room. Draco leaned against the opposite wall as he waited.
Three quick short knocks.

No answer.

She leaned her forehead against the door as she spoke.
"Hermione...It's me, Ginny. We just want to know if you're okay. Malfoy says you haven't come out since you left the hospital."

No answer, though Ginny could hear a soft hum of a lullaby.

She turned her head to look back at Draco, dark circles heavy under his eyes. She swallowed hard and tried again and again. All were unanswered as she turned back towards Malfoy.

"Tell her we are here for her. Harry, Ron, Mum, we're all here for you, Hermione." She spoke louder, hoping the message was received through the sealed door.

"They aren't going to press charges against you. You know with everything that..happened. Self-defense and whatnot." She spoke quietly to him.
Draco just stared at the door, not bothering to look at Ginny. He was unmoving, defeated in a way she'd never seen him before.

Two weeks later.

Pansy arrived by floo, storming into Malfoy manor. Draco waited for her by the stairs. Her black heels clacked against the marble flooring as she made her way up, ignoring him.

She pounded on the door.

"Granger, so help me, god, I will blast this door to pieces if you don't let me in."