Thanks for the great response to part 1! It feels good to be back. In case anyone cares, I picked the baby's name because it has special significance to me. It's the name of two very special women in my life who've been like grandmothers to me.
V.
Hermione was unable to contain her excitement the next time she visited Draco. "It's a girl," she announced when he was brought into the visitation room. "We're have a girl."
Draco hugged her tightly, resisting the urge to never let her go. Hermione, though, was more concerned about the prominence of his bones. "The food's bad," he mumbled, taking a seat. "Tell me more. She's healthy, yeah? You're feeling alright? Mother isn't too overbearing?"
She nodded, letting him know that everything at home was fine. "You don't look well," she said, dragging the tips of her fingers over his protruding cheekbones. "Please let me talk to Kingsley. Maybe I could bring you food or a few blankets. Has a healer been to see you? You feel feverish."
"I'm fine," he told her, removing her hand from his face. "And I'm sure I'll be better after you force the Minister of Magic to improve my conditions. Honestly, Hermione, there are more important things for you to focus your energy on. Potter said you two haven't talked in awhile. Whose doing is that?"
She stared at their joined hands and shrugged. "A little of both," she admitted. Since moving out of 12 Grimmauld Place, the friends had only seen one another by chance. It had been easier, for the sake of Harry and Ron's friendship, to ease herself out of Harry's life. He was, after all, dating Ron's only sister. Given Harry's desire for a family, she expected that soon their engagement announcement would appear in The Daily Prophet. "I'll talk to him," she promised, "after I talk to Kingsley about your accommodations. At the rate you're losing weight, you and the baby will be the same size by the end of the year."
His laughter was short lived as she glared at him. In truth, though the Dementors were gone and the guards were a bit more humane, the solitary confinement, bad food, and loneliness contributed to a sense of depression that only worsened when Hermione left. "I, um...you know I love you, right?" he asked her. Brows furrowed with confusion and worry, Hermione nodded. "I wouldn't...I wouldn't ask this of you if I didn't think it was necessary."
Her hold on his hand tightened. "You're frightening me," she told him.
"I think, maybe for the time being, you shouldn't visit so often," he continued, unable to face her. Head down, he felt the warmth of his tears as they slid down his cheeks. "Being in here, being away from you when I know what you're going through right now, it...hurts, Hermione. It hurts."
Pulling away, Hermione nodded and stood. "I understand," she murmured, kissing his cheek. "Just let me know when you're ready."
VI.
Harry's foot tapped nervously against the leg of the coffee table. Seated in the main living room of Malfoy Manor, he waited alone until Hermione joined him. Narcissa never greeted him, preferring to keep her distance from the Auror. Hermione explained that Harry was too much a reminder of the war for the older witch. She had, after all, risked her life to save Harry's. And while she had gotten off with minimal punishment, her son and husband sat in Azkaban. "She'll come around," Hermione always told him.
He smiled hesitantly when his friend appeared, and rose to hug her. "Been to see Malfoy recently?" he asked, helping her sit.
"Not since I found out the baby's gender," Hermione replied. It had been a month, and she hadn't received so much as a note from Draco. "I've spoken to Kingsley about the conditions there. He said he would grant us permission to supply Draco with meals. I just wish I knew if he were eating them. It scares me how thin he's become. You've been to see him, haven't you? Does he look any better?"
Harry shrugged. "He looks about the same," he told her. "He asks about you, but doesn't like lengthy conversations. He hasn't mentioned the baby once. I think maybe it's just easier to pretend that he doesn't have a life waiting for him outside the walls of Azkaban, especially when it'll be years before he gets to live it."
"And there's nothing you can do?" she asked. "There's no way to reduce the sentence, or commute it to house arrest?"
"Hermione, we can't do that because his secret girlfriend is pregnant," Harry replied. "And we both know that you know we can't do that."
Chagrined, Hermione smiled. "Can't fault me for trying," she murmured. "Listen, um, there's something you should know, and I'm hoping it's something you'll relay to Draco since he's not returning my letters. Healer Miller has restricted me to bedrest for the rest of the pregnancy. She's concerned about my blood pressure and the after effects of repeated exposure to the Cruciatus curse. Narcissa watches me like a hawk. It's becoming unbearable."
Harry frowned, his green eyes full of concern and worry for his friend. "And you didn't tell Malfoy?" he asked.
"I did," she said. "I just need confirmation that he knows. Not that I want to add to his stress or depression, but he deserves to know what's going on. I just wish he would talk to me."
VII.
"You'll be interested to know that you're a father," Harry said pointedly. It had been months since their last check-in, and Harry had needed to cancel the previous meeting when Hermione went into labor.
Draco stared at his feet as Harry spoke. He didn't want the details. He didn't want to know about the further pain he had caused. He didn't want to hear about the fatherless child and overburdened mother. "Enough!" he shouted, covering his ears with his hands. "Just...please stop."
"Why?" Harry demanded. "I thought you cared about her. That's all I've heard the last eight months from the both of you. Has Hermione been misled, or is she lying to cover for you?"
The blond sat up straight, gray eyes wide, and mouth open as he shook his head. "No...I," he stopped to take a deep breath, "I love her. I just can't listen to this. I can't be with her, and it's easier to pretend nothing outside here exists. She understands that."
Harry scoffed. "Maybe four months ago she did," he muttered. "You keep this up, especially when you've still got years left on your sentence, and she'll find someone else. She'll move on, and your daughter will be calling someone else daddy. If I were you, I'd talk to Hermione, if she's who you really want to be with."
"Do you think she'll see me?"
Getting to his feet, Harry walked to the door, signalling for the guard. "I'll talk to her," he promised. "By the way, your daughter's name is Eleanor."
VIII.
Hermione returned to Azkaban for the first time in several months. Head held high, she regarded Draco coolly when they were once again face to face. There was something off about him, something not quite right. The circles beneath his eyes were darker, his bottom lip looked fuller, and she could have sworn his right cheek was bruised.
"What happened?" she asked, studying him for further signs of abuse.
Draco shrugged. "Got jumped in the showers," he mumbled. "How is she? The baby, I mean. She's okay?"
A small smile touched Hermione's lips as she produced a photograph of their month old daughter. "She's perfect," she replied. "A little under seven pounds when she was born, but she can eat. Um, I know we never really discussed names, but I hope you're alright with the name I gave her. She has your mother's as a middle name."
He knew how close she had been to her maternal grandmother, and thought it a beautiful tribute to a woman she had so loved as a child. "I like it," he assured her, reaching for her hand. In his other hand was the photo of their daughter. "She looks like you. What's she like?"
"Besides perfect?" Hermione asked, clearly enamored with her child. "She's a good sleeper, hardly cries, and has the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Harry and Narcissa constantly argue over who gets to hold her. Luckily, she's mine, so it's an easy argument to diffuse. You're mother has been a wonderful grandmother. Honestly, I don't know that I would have gotten through the last few months without her."
Draco looked down at the table, chagrined and guilty. It should have been him by her side during the pregnancy. He should have held her hand and whispered encouraging words during labor and delivery. He should be holding his daughter now. Instead, Eleanor would be four years old upon his release. "I'm sorry," he murmured, squeezing her hand.
"I would prefer our daughter know that her father did the right thing by accepting the consequences for his actions, rather than running away from them," Hermione replied.
"I would prefer she know her father," Draco retorted.
"As would I," she agreed. "There's nothing we can do about it though. Thankfully, she's too young to understand what's going on, and by the time you're out, it'll be like you were never gone."
Draco smirked. "Planning on implanting some new memories?" he asked. Though she considered the idea for a moment, Hermione denied that was her intention. "Um, the Minister came by to see me the other day. I'm sorry, I should have mentioned it sooner. This wasn't the first run-in I've had with other inmates, and the guards seem to be of little help. A lot of the time, they join in. The Malfoys don't exactly inspire warm, fuzzy feelings, and I'm certain my father has wronged quite a few people in here. Anyhow, we discussed the possibility of commuting my sentence to house arrest for my own safety."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Hermione rounded the table and wrapped her arms around him. "Merlin, I can't believe you let me go on and on while you had such important news," she replied. "You're really coming home?"
Draco grinned. "Yes, love, I'm really coming home."