Hermione had locked herself in the bathroom for the fourth time that week. Draco had been pacing outside the bathroom door for ages, waiting for her to emerge and hopefully bring good news with her. They had been trying for a child for a year and it was beginning to feel like a lost cause. They didn't know what they were doing wrong, if they were even doing anything wrong in the first place. For whatever reason, Hermione just couldn't seem to get pregnant.
Draco had his arms crossed tightly against his chest, one hand covering his chin, his nerves were on the fritz. The door finally opened, to reveal a downtrodden Hermione holding her wand and a glass potion bottle. The liquid in the bottle was clear, which meant one disheartening truth: no baby.
"I should really just stop checking, I know it won't be positive." She said holding up the bottle between them. Draco took three steps towards her and pulled her into his arms, her head fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck.
"We'll figure this out, sweetheart. I promise." He took a step back and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, physically bracing her for his idea. "I think we should go to St. Mungos. Check with a Healer to see what's going on. Make sure there's not a problem we're unaware of."
To his surprise, she nodded. She refused to meet his eyes, glancing instead at the crystal, clear potions bottle in her left hand. She had been somewhat opposed to seeing a Healer, said that they were fine and that getting pregnant just took time. It was normal for couples to try for a while. But she had said that 6 months ago, and now checking her hormonal status every month was becoming much more emotionally gruelling. "I'll schedule an appointment." He said as he gave her shoulders a final squeeze.
•••
Two weeks later they were sitting in a sterile, white hospital room. Hermione was gripping her knees with surprising strength; the anxiety apparent in the red marks of pressure left on her skin. Their Healer was going to be with them any minute now. Finally a woman in white robes came into the room, her hair was tied up neatly and her sleeves were rolled to the elbows. She introduced herself as Healer Daus and asked them a simple string of mandatory questions before pulling out her wand to start the examination.
She checked both of them before deciding to focus her energy on Hermione. Her wand was pointed at Hermione's midsection and different parts of her stomach were alight with a soft golden glow. The Healer finally brought her wand down, sighed, and stood up straight. "Mrs. Malfoy, did you withstand any amount of torture during the war?"
Hermione seemed to choke on her words, her eyes went wide. "Um, yes. Several bouts of the Cruciatus and quite a few physical blows, too many to count, really." Draco steeled himself against her words. It was hard for him to think about her being tortured in his old family home. He looked at Healer Daus, who was currently biting her lower lip and nodding her head.
"I suspected as much. Mrs. Malfoy, I'm afraid the amount of physical scarring your body has experienced has left you unable to bare a child." The room went dead silent. It was as if all outside noise had ceased. The noise from the hallway was nonexistent, they couldn't even hear themselves breathe. Healer Daus spoke again, quietly, "We've seen this quite frequently since the end of the war. The Cruciatus, especially if it is suffered multiple times, can leave lasting scars on its victims. Often leaving them incapable of natural bodily functions. I'm so sorry."
Hermione was silent, barely even breathing. She refused to look anywhere but the floor and if someone had walked into the room at that moment they would have thought her a statue. She simply nodded in reply. Healer Daus put her hands in the pockets of her robes. "I'll give you two some time alone." She said as she walked out of the examination room.
Draco turned to his wife. The sadness in her demeanor was very apparent, and considerably worse than it had been in the last few months. She took a deep breath and turned towards him. "Draco…" He pulled her into his arms before she could utter another word.
"I'm so sorry, love. I'm so sorry." He was at a loss for words. What do you say to comfort your wife when she's just found out that her body doesn't work the way it's supposed to? How do you apologize for something neither of you had any control over? She whispered into his chest, he could barely hear her, "What's that, love?" He pulled away from her for a moment to better understand her.
"I'm sorry I can't give you a child. I'm sorry I'm so inadequate." Her voice was so weak, so small, she was so fragile and he held her close.
"You are not inadequate. You are perfect, and I love you for everything that you are. It doesn't matter that we can't have children, that's not going to change how I feel about you. All we really need is each other, okay?" She nodded her head before resting it back on his shoulder. He held her for a few more moments, in that sad, sterile, white room.
•••
When they got home Hermione spent most of her time for the rest of the day sitting in the window seat that was in their bedroom. She had her legs crossed and the side of her head rested against the cold, glass, pane. She had an empty look in her eye and her complexion had become much more sallow since they had arrived home. He didn't know how to comfort her, and as far as he could tell she needed a few minutes alone.
He locked himself in the bathroom and showered. He felt grimy. Once he had finished and changed he grabbed the nearest towel and ran it through his hair. The ruffled, blonde mess atop his head hung over his forehead and he stopped to look at himself in the mirror. And he broke. Tears fell and he didn't try to stop them. He leaned over the counter, his hands pressing against the cold granite on either side of him. He would never have the joy of looking at his pregnant wife and realizing that the life she was carrying was created by them and that the child was theirs. He was never going to have a child who was biologically and naturally his. He and Hermione would never find themselves in a delivery room, seated side by side with a small bundle in their arms. He would never get to watch a child of his own grow from an infant to an adult.
They would never have a child of their own. It hit him harder with each thought and slowly broke down the walls he had built. The walls that had guarded his heart from the negative possibilities. He had assured himself that it was just an unlucky draw. A 'better luck next time' scenario. That they would get pregnant they just had to wait. But reality had set in; it had taken its ragged hands and grasped his heart with petrifying strength, squeezing every endeavor of hope from its steady, beating flesh.
And he could feel the faith leave him. The confidence he had had in their sheer strength of will had faded and was replaced by the nasty, bitter truth. His head was swarming with emotions. He was devastated for Hermione, she wanted a child so badly, he knew how much it hurt her each time that potion had come back negative. He felt massive amounts of guilt piling on his shoulders. 'If only I had done more to protect her during the war. If only I had stopped the torture when I had the chance. I just want to give her what she wants.' He could feel the guilt festering. 'No', he told himself, 'that will only make it hurt worse. You did what you could. You still have Hermione in the end, that's what counts.' He spent the next ten minutes trying to compose himself; wiping the tears from his cheeks, steadying his breathing, relaxing his muscles. He had to be stronger than the grief. For her.
•••
They spent a few weeks like that. Being quiet and contemplative. She spent a lot of her time on the window seat, when she wasn't at work. He had had to break the news to his mother; she was absolutely devastated for them. She had sobbed for hours and he had sat right there with her, holding her and telling her that he was going to find a way to give her grandchildren. He had spent that whole time thinking about the fact that Hermione hadn't cried yet. She hadn't shed a single tear. Her expression had been blank and her countenance melancholic, but it was simply that and nothing more.
They also had to break the news to her parents. He had done all the talking. She simply sat next to him, her eyes towards the ground and her hand held tightly in his. Her mother gasped as the tears spilt from her eyes and she joined her daughter on the couch, wrapping her arms around her. He didn't have the heart to tell his mother-in-law that her daughter would not cry with her. Her father had the look of pure devastation on his face. He didn't cry either, but his eyes were telling.
•••
That night when they came home, Hermione simply resumed her spot on the window seat, staring at the scenery and being generally unresponsive. It was time to intervene. "Hermione, darling. I think we need to talk. We haven't really talked about it yet. I don't want to see you completely shut yourself out."
She turned and met his eyes and for the first time in weeks he saw something other than the lifeless haze that had dominated her features. "I know," She said, "I'm just trying to come to terms with it, that's all."
He took a seat next to his wife, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. "I know, love. But I'm your husband, we've got to talk about it sooner or later."
"I guess I'm just having to become accustomed to the idea of not having the life I expected. Even as a woman, a child isn't a guarantee. I don't know why I lied to myself like that, nothing in life is a guarantee." She mumbled as she looked down at her hands that were fiddling with the edge of her jumper.
"Well besides death and taxes, of course." He said, trying to lighten the mood a bit. It had the desired effect, he could see the corners of her mouth turning up in a small smile.
"Unfortunate really, that those are the only things one can truly look forward to in life." She continued to avoid his gaze, but the tone of the conversation had shifted, which was the important part.
"I know it's a hard thing to digest, we weren't expecting this and it's not what anyone would have wanted, but we're going to have to live with it. And I know it's heartbreaking, I can feel it just as much as you can, but we're going to get through it. And there are other ways, you know. We could adopt. Or try that Muggle thing, the IVF. Or we could just keep trying and hope for a miracle. We don't have to make any immediate decisions but I'm open to whatever suggestions you may have about how you want to go about this. I'm going to do everything I possibly can to make sure that you're happy."
She finally met his eyes. "I really don't deserve you."
"Now that's a hell of a lie right there, Granger."
"I love you." Was all she said in reply.
"And I love you. And I'm not giving up on our family, I hope you know that." She nodded as tears started to escape, trailing paths down her freckled cheeks. He reached his hand up and wiped them away, as he always did. He hated seeing her cry, but she needed to. She hadn't yet. She was bottling up her emotions about the whole ordeal and he knew it was breaking her. But crying would help, he knew that, it always did. The longer someone kept their emotions to themselves, the easier it was for the grief to eat up their insides. He didn't want that for her. He hated seeing her cry yes, but right now he wanted her to let it all out. She needed the relief. He had been waiting weeks for her to finally express her emotions. He simply wrapped his arms around her and let her cry. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, it felt like hours. But it didn't matter, they were healing. And this was just the beginning.
A/N: Just a short and not-so-sweet little one shot I promised last week. Wanted to write something a little more melancholy. Hope you guys like it! Read and review!