Disclaimer: JKR's, not mine.
AN: Warnings for recurrent miscarriage.
Enduring Darkness to See the Light
Prompts: Must contain a child; second person
You were doing all right until Pansy dropped by to show off her second daughter.
Despite his even voice and calm expression, you know your husband too well not to see how much holding the baby hurts him. Maybe if you were a better woman, you could lift the newest Montague in your own arms and spare Draco this, but you can't bring yourself to touch her, not when you're still bleeding out your latest hope, not when Pansy's eldest is younger than your first child would have been had that pregnancy not ended in loss as well. So, upright and still as a tombstone, you stand by the fireplace instead, controlling your breathing and wondering if the Malfoys are cursed.
Narcissa has been a surprising source of comfort, and, on the table in front of Draco, the flowers she sent you are still fresh and fragrant. She brings you yarn and seedlings and books about grief, and she encourages you to find some way to commemorate your losses. You think of Narcissa's garden and of trees growing for Draco's lost brothers and sisters. You are not willing to count them all, but you know Narcissa and Lucius tried for nine years before having Draco. The thought is unbearable. Could you endure it, you wonder, and you're afraid of the answer.
Each absent child is a hole in your heart. Like cracks in parched earth, they could fill with your life's blood but still be as barren as the rest of you. Maybe if Draco had married Pansy, he would be holding his own child now. Maybe if you had loved Ron, Harry, or anyone else but Draco, you wouldn't have to feel this way. Sometimes, in the early morning hours when you are half-asleep and your husband's arm lies over you, his hand protectively cradling nothing, you are convinced that each cycle of creation and death is robbing you of everything but sadness. Will the time come when you need to turn your back on the memory of all of this? Even if it means turning your back on Draco?
When Draco passes the baby back to Pansy, it's safe to join him. Draco is cold hands, warm eyes, and a sad smile just for you, and you can tune Pansy out when he's touching you. You cover his hands with both of yours to warm them and smile your bravest smile for his benefit. Draco has more hope than you that everything will be okay, that someday a child will live and grow and be yours forever. You love him so much for that faith, for the strength he would use to keep you both moving forward, and you kiss him, not caring that Pansy is watching. You realize—with a kind of despair and the intuitive knowledge that the worst is yet to come—that, although you are reaching a point when you will refuse to keep trying, you are not there yet.