(A/N) This one is a more sad than my other, more humor-driven ones.

WARNING: MENTIONS OF A STILLBIRTH

A Lifesong Unsung

The halls that usually buzzed with activity were silent on that cool, crisp day. It was September 19th, a Saturday, of the year 1998. 1998 was a memorable year to say the least, as it had been that very year that the Dark Lord Voldemort, the most powerful dark wizard since Grindelwald himself, had finally been defeated. And on that sunny Saturday afternoon, that very boy, or man now, who had vanquished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Harry James Potter, was walking along the empty halls accompanied by his bestest friend Ronald Bilius Weasley.

Harry Potter and Ron Weasley had been friends for seven years now, and today they were celebrating their other best friend, Hermione Granger's birthday. She was nineteen, and was a nearly a year older than Harry, though they were in the same year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, since her birthday was in September.

Hermione was the Head Girl of Hogwarts, which meant she had a lot of responsibilities, like patrols, events, and scheduling the prefects' meetings. The only problem was that there wasn't just a Head Girl, there was a Head Boy, too. Both lived in a separate dorm from the Houses, and had their own Common Room as well, though it wasn't a large as the Houses'. Normally, having another Head would be a good thing. But unfortunately for Hermione, the Head Boy was not a pleasant person.

His name was Draco Malfoy.

He was tall, taller than both Harry and Ron, and had sleek platinum blonde hair, which was somehow always in impeccable condition. His eyes were steel grey and cold, much like his personality. Before the War, Malfoy had been an annoying brat who lived only to jibe and make fun of Harry and his friends, but during the War, Malfoy was cold, dark, and brooding, much like his father, Lucius, though Harry somehow found the wrath in Draco's eyes to be much more frightening than Lucius'.

Draco and his father had both been Death Eaters, followers of Voldemort, and had the semblance of a snake-tongued skull branded across their inner left forearm. Harry had testified in front of the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to allow Draco and Narcissa, Draco's mother, to be spared the sentence to Azkaban, the wizard prison. Narcissa had gotten off without any problems, but Draco had been forced to spend an entire month in a cold cell in the prison.

Not only was Malfoy a generally irritating person, he seemed to have it out for Hermione personally. Of course, she did slap him across the face in their third year. His family, all wizarding for centuries, thought that because they were 'pureblooded' they were better than the other 'lesser' blood statuses. Halfbloods were in the middle, not hated, not loved. They were either the child of a wizard and a Muggle, or the child of a wizard and a Muggle-born, which were the most hated of all the blood statuses. Muggle-borns, or, as many purebloods called them, Mudbloods, were thought to be inferior and undeserving of the magic in their blood. Malfoy was one of those people.

What made matters worse was that Hermione was Muggle-born.

As Harry and Ron made their way towards the Head dorms, Harry wondered how Hermione was holding up. She'd been a complete emotional wreck after the War, as was to be expected, but it seemed that she had lost someone very dear to her. Only thing was, Harry and Ron had no clue who. The ones who had died in the War that Harry could think of were, Severus Snape, but as they didn't know him well, they didn't mourn for him as much as others, Colin Creevey, Padma Patil, Ted Tonks, Mad-Eye Moody, Dobby the house-elf, Susan Bones and Terry Boot. None of those should have caused Hermione as much emotional distress as it did. She was in the worst shape the first month after the War ended. Harry recalled her sitting in Grimauld Place on June the fifth, crying her eyes out while she stared at the Black family tree. Harry and Ron tried to console her first, then Ginny, then Molly, then the Weasley twins, who tried to pull a prank, but ended up only causing Hermione to cry more. Teddy Lupin, Remus and Nymphadora's son, was the one to calm her down. He'd crawled into the room, having escaped his mother's clutches, and deposited himself on Hermione's lap, whilst changing his hair to bouncy brown curls. Hermione had hugged him and rocked him and stayed with him until he fell asleep. Harry had watched from a distance, noting how motherly Hermione seemed while she played with Teddy. After Teddy had been put back to sleep, Hermione had come downstairs and seen Remus and Nymphadora sitting together like the happy married couple they were, and Hermione's eyes had filled with tears and she ran off back to the tapestry.

Now, Harry was still wondering what could've happened to make Hermione so fragile, but as soon as they got back to Hogwarts, she was already seeming stronger.

"Harry?" Ron asked as they approached the portrait guarding the entrance.

"Yeah, Ron?" Harry glanced at his gangly redheaded friend.

"D'you think Hermione'd go out with me if I asked her?" Ron's ears turned pink as he said this.

"Well, I think so." Harry replied, thinking about Hermione and Ron's relationship. They were good friends, and Harry could maybe see a romance, of course, after a while.

They reached the portrait, but it was empty.

"Er," Ron looked around the empty corridor. "Where's Merlin?"

Harry shrugged to say he didn't know. Merlin was the man in the portrait, a tall bearded fellow who looked a lot like Dumbledore. A the moment however, he was absent from the portrait, so Harry and Ron could not request entry.

"I'm not sure-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, pressing his ear against the canvas. "Hey, Ron, come over here."

Both boys pressed their ears to the painting, listening.

And there it was. A soft, piano melody. They knew Hermione had a piano in the Common Room, but they'd never heard her play. She had told them recently that she'd been working on learning a song, but that she couldn't quite get the bass part down with her left hand. Strangely though, as they listened, they recognized the tune as the same one she'd been trying to play, but there was a clear bass accompanyment, flowing in time with the rest.

Harry had just opened his mouth to say something when they heard Hermione's voice from the Common Room beyond the painting.

"I don't know how you can keep up with that pace!" she exclaimed, her voice a little muffled by the canvas. "I wish I could do that."

There was a low, murmured response, but it was so quiet that Harry couldn't hear it.

"…It was very pretty," Hermione said quietly.

"Hey, I had to do something for your birthday." a masculine voice replied, a hint of laughter in his tone.

"Oh, I completely forgot about that!" Hermione laughed nervously. "You didn't get me anything, right?"

"Why would I not?" the male voice sounded mildly offended. "Mya, darling-"

"Don't call me 'darling'," Hermione growled.

"Mya, darling," the male ignored her. "I had to get you something. I don't have anyone else to shower with gifts."

Hermione mumbled something. Apparently the other person didn't hear her either.

"What was that?"

"You would have," Hermione's voice was choked.

"Mya?" the male voice sounded concerned. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"I-I…" Hermione sniffled.

"Hey…" the male voice said soothingly. "Mya, it's okay, you don't have to tell me."

"N-no, I should." Hermione's voice was a bit stronger now. "In the Manor, when Bellatrix tortured me…"

There was a deep growl. Hermione sniffled again.

"I-I was p-pregnant…" she burst into tears.

"What?" the male voice was full of shock and horror. "Mya…"

Hermione continued sobbing.

"Mya…" the voice repeated. "Mya…what happened to the baby?"

Hermione didn't respond.

A cold sense of dread crept over Harry, and he and Ron exchanged wary glances.

"Mya…" the voice coaxed. "What happened to your ba-"

"Our," Hermione interrupted, sniffling again. "Our baby."

Harry and Ron simultaniously gasped.

"Yes, our baby," the voice agreed. "What happened to them?"

"They died…" Hermione began sobbing again. "The Crucio killed them…I gave birth to a half-way grown, dead baby…"

Harry and Ron stared in horror. That was why Hermione was so unstable; she'd had a stillbirth. That was why Teddy soothed her, he was the baby she was supposed to have. And that was why she'd stared at the Black tree for hours. She'd been looking at a family. A family like the one she could have had.

"Oh, Mya…" the male voice whispered, and Harry heard his voice break.

That night, Harry and Ron had prepared a party for Hermione, hoping to lift her spirits, but when she arrived in the Gryffindor Common Room, she looked sad. She sat down on one of the couches and curled against the arm, a few tears staining her face. Ginny, who'd been told what Harry and Ron heard, sat down beside her friend, looking sympathetic.

"Hey, 'Mione." she said softly, rubbing Hermione's shoulder. "Harry and Ron told me they heard you earlier, talking to someone in your Common Room."

Hermione's head shot up, alert.

"Who?" she asked warily.

"They couldn't tell," Ginny replied, rubbing reassuring circles on Hermione's back. "But they did hear about your baby. Oh, 'Mione, I'm so sorry."

Ginny pulled Hermione into her arms and both girls cried together quietly. A few seconds later, Luna came up and gently touched Hermione's arm.

"Should I go get him and his friends?" the dreamy blonde girl asked.

Hermione nodded and buried her face into Ginny's shoulder again. Luna smiled kindly and patted Hermione on the arm, then whisked out the portrait hole to go find whoever it was Hermione wanted.

Around ten minutes later, Hermione was sitting up again, back in her spot by the arm of the couch, and Ginny was on the opposite side, leaving one cushion open in between them. Ron had briefly mentioned sitting there to Harry, but Harry said that if Luna came back with who Harry assumed would be the father and Hermione's lover, they'd probably want to sit there to comfort Hermione. So Ron took up a seat in an armchair by the fire and busied himself with eating some chocolate frogs.

Just as Harry sat down, the portrait opened and voices drifted in.

"I'll go find Greg," came a boyish voice, a bit too high-pitched to be the one Hermione'd been talking to. "He'll know where to find him."

"Yeah, come on Lovegood, let's go check on Hermione." replied another male voice, closer to Hermione's lover's, but not quite.

The portrait shut again and Luna glided back into the room, followed by a tall black boy with high cheekbones and rather haughty features. As soon as he saw Hermione, his arrogant exterior melted and he looked very worried. Was he Hermione's lover?

"Zabini?" Harry blinked. He was a Slytherin, why would Hermione date a Slytherin.

"Oh, hey Potter," Zabini barely spared Harry a glance as he rushed over to sit by Hermione. "Hey, Hermione, you okay? I know it's been hard."

Okay, not Zabini, though he did seem familiar…

"HEY LOVEGOOD OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR BEFORE I GET GREG TO BREAK IT" came the earlier, higher-pitched voice.

"Can it, Theo!" Zabini called over his shoulder.

Luna sprang to her feet and flew to the portrait, opening it.

"Come in, Hermione's in there." she said.

"Lots of red," commented a deep, gravelly voice.

"Oh, brilliant observation, Greg." snapped Theodore Nott, a weedy looking boy, as he walked into the Common Room. "It's a Gryffindor hangout, not a Hufflepuff one. What'd you expect?"

Gregory Goyle followed him, now sporting a rather bushy beard, and looking around at the decor thoughtfully.

"Greg-" interrupted another voice. Was that the Hermione's lover? "Get out- oh bloody hell, you lunatic! Move it so I can check on my damn-"

Goyle was pushed aside as a tall fair-haired man entered, followed closely by Luna. His steel grey eyes scanned the room before landing on Hermione.

"Malfoy," Ron narrowed his eyes at the platinum blonde.

"Weaselbee," Malfoy replied, though, much like Zabini, he spared no time for Ron, instead pushing Zabini aside and sitting down in his place next to Hermione.

"What d'you think you're-" Ron started, but Neville, who had been standing beside him, pushed him back into his chair.

"Relax, Ron." Neville told him. "Just chill out."

Everyone looked back at Malfoy, who had taken Hermione's hands in his own and was looking directly into her eyes.

"What's wrong, love?" he asked her quietly.

"No," interrupted Ron. "Oh, no, oh no no no you did not"

"Put a frog in it, Weasley!" snarled Nott. "Leave Draco and Hermione alone."

"B-but-" Ron started, but Neville cut him off.

"Drop it Ron," he said in a forceful sort of voice, unusual for Neville.

"Why should I?" Ron bristled.

Neville and Malfoy exchanged a wary glance. Malfoy nodded silently, then pulled Hermione into his arms and rested his chin on top of Hermione's head.

"They're together," Neville said gravely, casting a cautious glare at Ron.

"Well obviously!" Ron growled. "I understand that bit!"

"No," Nott interrupted. "You don't understand, Weasley."

Malfoy silently raised his left hand from where it had been resting against Hermione's back.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron blustered.

"Ron," said Neville quietly. "They're married."

"What!?" Ron shot up from his seat, as did Zabini, taking a protective stance in front of his friend.

Nott and Goyle moved closer as well, Goyle staying farther back, an intimidating presence, while Nott came to stand by the arm Hermione was sitting at. Harry stood up as well, though he was calmer.

"When did this happen?" he asked softly, glancing at Nott and Zabini, but focusing on Neville.

"Last June," Neville replied after a comfirmation glance at Malfoy. "Remus conducted the ceremony, Tonks, Severus, Luna and I as witnesses."

"We've known since the Battle," Nott added, gesturing to himself, Zabini and Goyle. "Lovegood was the one who told us, me and Greg, shortly after Hermione had her…er…"

"Stillbirth," Zabini said, rubbing Hermione's shoulder. "I was there with Lovegood, we were the ones who delivered the child."

Hermione's quiet sobs filled the room, accompanied only by the crackling of the fire.

"Oh," Neville looked downcast. "I hadn't heard about that. I'm so sorry, guys."

Malfoy only nodded again, burying his nose into Hermione's bushy curls. Ron looked down solemnly.

"Listen Hermione," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "I'm sorry for shouting; it wasn't very polite of me."

Hermione lifted her head a little from where it was resting on Malfoy's chest.

"Thanks Ron…" she whispered, giving him a teary smile. She sniffled and nuzzled her face into Malfoy's neck. Her next words were muffled, but coherent. "I really appreciate it."

From that day forth, they celebrated May 2nd as the birthday of Aries Malfoy, daughter of Draco and Hermione Malfoy.

And all was well.

(A/N) Did you cry? Was is terrible? Was it great? I hope you found it interesting.