My Sacrifice to Make

I Have Died Every Day Waiting for You

July 2001 ~ First Order Meeting with Draco

Warm, golden rays of sun peek their way between the soft pink drapes, illuminating the room with a soft glow. Hermione stands by the painted white crib, watching as her daughter sleeps peacefully. The little girl snores softly, causing a small smile to spread upon the mother's face. Reaching into the crib, she runs the backs of her two fingers down the full, freckled cheek. When Rose lets out another little snore, this one a bit louder, Hermione moves her hand from her cheek up to the top of her head. Wrapping her fingers around one of her daughter's curls, she gently runs her thumb over the red strands.

As she gently plays with the curl, a glint of yellow shines from it. Hermione inhales sharply, reaching for her wand, but quickly stops herself when she sees that all of her daughter's curls are still a flaming red.

It was just the sun shining on it, of course. I placed the glamour on last night; it's not possible that it would fade already.

"Are you ready, 'Ermione?"

Letting out a shaky breath, Hermione finally releases her hold on Rose's curl and turns around to meet the gaze of the blonde witch standing in the doorway.

"No," she admits with a mirthless chuckle. "I don't know how to do this. How am I supposed to look at him when..." Her words are cut off by a harsh exhale of breath and she gives Fleur a tight smile. The words don't need to be said, however. The question is obvious: how is she supposed to look him in the eye as she lies about the true identity of her daughter, of his daughter, while simultaneously struggling with the fact that he's not the only man she's in love with anymore?

"It will be okay," Fleur assures her with a gentle smile. "'E is going to be 'ere soon. We should 'ead back down now."

Turning her gaze back toward her daughter, Hermione reaches down to stroke her fingertips along the little girl's cheek once more. She smiles when Rose puckers her tiny lips in her sleep. With one last stroke of her finger, Hermione leaves her sleeping daughter in her crib and makes her way downstairs with Fleur.

With every step that she takes, Hermione feels the familiar dread settling in her gut, the icy pit that forms before the suffocating sensation of anxiety overcomes her entire being. A gentle hand on her shoulder sends a ripple of calm throughout her.

"You can do 'zis, 'Ermione."

I'm not too sure about that...

When they reach the ground floor, the two witches walk toward the cacophony of voices coming from the dining room as the other members of the Order all arrive. Walking into the room, Hermione finds almost everyone seated around the table. Going to the spot that has become hers during these meetings, she sits and looks around for the person who should occupy the chair next to hers.

The door to the kitchen swings open and Ron comes out holding a large mug, a smile on his face as he looks at Hermione. Sinking into his chair, he places the mug on the table and slides it in front of her.

"Earl Grey, just the way you like it."

Glancing into the cup, she sees the milky white of the liquid and the comforting aroma of the added vanilla fills her senses. Turning to look at Ron, Hermione smiles and brings the cup to her lips, muttering a low 'thank you' before taking a long sip.

"Malfoy."

Harry's voice carries from the other room and Hermione's heart skips. Her hands start to shake as she lowers the mug down to the table in front of her.

"Potter."

Everything stops. Her senses. Her breath. Her heart.

The smooth, even tone of his voice sends a tidal wave of emotions through Hermione. It's been three years since she's heard that voice, but she would recognize it anywhere. She knew that this reunion would be difficult, but she didn't know what exactly to expect from it. She wasn't sure how she would react now that she's fallen into a new routine of life over the past three years with Ron. But she didn't expect to feel as if there was a Dementor in her house, sucking everything out of her.