I still don't own this. Sigh. No money, either. Double sigh.

AN: I recommend listening to Greg Laswell's cover of "This Woman's Work" while reading this chapter. Seriously.

"Harry!" Ginny ran to meet him as he walked slowly into the courtyard, his feet dragging and shoulders hunched.

He looked up to see that she was crying, her brow furrowed and immediately wrapped his arms around her and cried with her.

"Ginny, he's gone- Dumbledore-"

She pulled back and stared at him, face even paler in the flickering lights.

"What?" she whispered. "No. Oh, no. Not him, too. Oh, Harry-"

Harry was about to pull her to him again, to give over to their now shared misery when her words stopped him.

"Too?" he echoed. "What do you mean? Ginny, who else-"

"Bill was caught by Fenrir," she moaned. "He's alive, but they've already taken him to the infirmary. But-" She stopped, lips trembling.

"Who?" Harry insisted and finally looked past her, to where Ron knelt on the stones, struggling with an Order member- and was that Neville next to him, kneeling over someone? His heart leapt to his throat.

"She's alive!" the call from Neville suddenly went up and Ginny sagged in his arms, relieved. Harry held her tightly, not even realizing what he was doing.

"Hermione?" he questioned, and looked down at her face. She was desperately unhappy, despite her relief, and he had his answer.

He grabbed Ginny's hand and found that he had the strength to run, after all.

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was Harry's face and she got out just a few words before the pain rose to the surface and overwhelmed her. Then there was only screaming, and bleeding, and wishing she were dead. She may have called for her mother at one point, she wasn't sure, but only Madame Pomfrey and Molly Weasley were at her side and neither of them looked very happy or comforting, despite their best efforts. That was when she could see. When she couldn't see, the only thing in her head was Draco's face as he ran from her during those last awful moments of the battle that had, until then, been going rather well, she thought…

And then she felt nothing, not even the little heartbeat that had sustained her through those final months of school, and darkness came.

Draco paced the dark, tiny room Snape had thrust him into and waited. Waited for whatever was going on out there to be over, for someone to summon him, for his life to end…all he could think of was Hermione, lying cold and possibly dead in the courtyard, and all he could see in this dark cell was that old man's face as he accepted his death.

He thought he might go insane if he had to wait much longer. Or maybe he already was insane. Yes, that made more sense.

The door opened, light spilled in.

"Draco-" came Snape's voice and Draco turned to him and froze, blinking owlishly in the sudden light.

"Where is she?" he asked hoarsely.

"Hermione?" Snape said, concerned.

"My aunt," Draco replied. Snape stiffened.

"That is not your concern right now-"

"It will be. Very soon. It's all part of the ruse, isn't it? Isn't it?"

Snape stepped into the room, shut the door. He placed a hand on Draco's shoulder and Draco didn't shake it off. He wanted some comforting about now, however small it was.

"Draco, you're to go back."

"Back…to Hogwarts? Doesn't he want to see me?"

"The Dark Lord has agreed with me that it is best you go to the mother of your child, first."

"The mother of my-" Draco let out a bark of laughter, though there was nothing humorous in the sound. "You're joking. He's letting me go back?"

"The negotiation was not without its price," Snape said softly, wincing some and Draco was immediately alert again.

"What? What did he do to you?"

"Don't mind me, boy. You must go back. Apparate to Hogsmeade, use the cupboard, whichever is fastest."

"You're not coming with me?"

"How can I? Not everyone in the school knows of my loyalties. I would be killed on sight. Now, go! And Draco-" He stopped the boy again just as he'd opened the door and Draco turned back. Severus gave him a small, grim smile. "Then you must return."

Draco stared at him for some seconds more. There wouldn't be much to come back to, but at least then he could have vengeance. Although the thought of it terrified him. Demand retribution of his aunt, his mother's sister…would she ever forgive him? But then, the bigger question was would he ever forgive himself, for what Bellatrix had done to Hermione, and he already knew the answer to that.

At least vengenace would ease the guilt some.

"Of course," he said, nodding at Snape before stepping out the door and making his way from his boyhood home into the even darker night.

There was a commotion over at the doors of the infirmary and Harry rushed over from his post next to Ginny to investigate. Remus greeted him, holding Draco roughly by his shirt collar in one hand, wand gripped in the other.

"Let go!" Draco hissed and Harry tried to find it in himself not to murder him.

"Remus-" he began, but the older man shook his head.

"This isn't your concern right now, Harry." He started to call over another adult and Harry stepped forward.

"It is." Harry made his mouth work. "He's with Hermione. She's been asking for him constantly. When she's awake," he added, in a cruel dig to the other boy. Draco flinched and Lupin loosened his grip somewhat.

"Harry…"

"You're the one who told me to trust Dumbledore's judgment all year," Harry shot back.

"Where is she?" Draco finally broke in and Harry turned to him.

"Over there," he said, jerking his head. He eyed Draco as if appraising him, seeing if he was fit to take the news and Draco knew immediately that whatever he'd imagined, it was worse and very, very bad. But at least she wasn't dead, thank Merlin. At least-

Harry delivered his news in the gentlest voice he could manage which was honestly still pretty harsh, considering all they'd been through tonight. But his words would have stopped Draco's heart beating no matter how they sounded, he was sure.

"She lost the baby."

Draco let out one grief stricken cry and nearly collapsed against his captor, though in the cry there was relief and awful joy that Hermione lived, despite it all. Then he was straightening up, standing on his own, determined to be brave. Lupin let him go and he and Harry watched Draco move away from them, towards Madame Pomfrey, where she stood guard at the curtains surrounding Hermione.

The older witch warily watched him approach, but didn't move from her post.

"Let me see her," Draco said, his voice stern and uncompromising.

Poppy knew immediately what he meant. She looked at him like he was insane and felt a swell of pity for the boy. So young, yet he'd taken on an unthinkable task. Still reeling from the death of the headmaster herself, she felt tears rise to her eyes.

"Mister Malfoy, I assure you, that is not…a good idea," she said as gently as possible.

He narrowed his eyes. "I want to see her."

Poppy gave him a solid look. Well, if he were going to lose it in her infirmary he would have done so already, no doubt. He was looking pale and drawn, but there was courage in his face. Or was it grief?

She shook her head. Not that it mattered. They were all grieving. The school was permeated with it.

"Mister Malfoy-"

"Please, Madame Pomfrey," he responded, his voice finally breaking a little.

She closed her eyes and waved behind her. "If you insist. She's over there-"

He was walking past her in a heartbeat, before she'd finished her sentence and into the curtained area they'd used for Hermione's labor. Draco approached the table she'd pointed to slowly, unsure of what he would find. His heart was hammering in his ears and then he stopped and looked down and saw…and silence descended. Madame Pomfrey had clearly cleaned her up and she was lying in a light pink blanket on that cold table, waiting for attention.

She was tiny. She was perfect.

She was lifeless.

Hands trembling as they had just that night when he'd held his wand level at a wizard who let himself be killed, he reached out and carefully picked up her fragile body. He cradled her head in one hand and her body along his arms and looked down into her face, as though hoping to see something that had never been there in the first place. His chin. His brow. His eyes.

But there was nothing of his in that tiny thing, except the love he held for her, even when it was clear she would never be able to love him back.

Not when he'd failed her so utterly.

All the promises he'd made to her and to her mother; to Dumbledore and Snape; to his parents and hers…it was all gone with the flick of one insane witch's wand. An unbearable grief and guilt settled on his chest, pressing it in, caving him until he was hunched over her fragile corpse, weeping silently to himself. Crying tears he would never shed again. He didn't have that luxury. This was his one chance to mourn this little thing, this life he hadn't helped to create, but that he'd loved just the same. Merlin, how could he not love her, when he loved her mother the way he did?

It was and always would be unbearable. Draco wasn't sure his heart would ever beat the same again.

Ron watched him from the other side, hands clenched into fists. Draco Malfoy was crying over his child. His! And after all the promises and the vows to keep Hermione safe and keep this exact thing from happening. It was too much.

But Malfoy was standing there, rocking the…baby, crying quietly. As if he'd lost the most precious thing in the world. Ron thought he should probably feel the exact same way- he did feel that way, really, but he was so angry at Malfoy at that moment that it overrode every other emotion.

"Malfoy," he managed to grind out, restraining himself from walking over and killing the other boy outright. For doing this to him. To her. To Hermione.

Draco stilled at the sound and turned his head to face Ron. His eyes were bright with tears, but his face was lifeless, his shoulders curled forward, defeated. Ron unclenched his fists, caught in the strangeness of the expression. So…Malfoy felt responsible. Well, he should, Ron argued with himself, but even he could see that now was not the time to grind in the boot heel. Not when they'd all lost so much. Not when Hermione was suffering even more.

"Hermione…wants you," he finally said and then repeated himself when Draco just blinked at him and then looked back at the baby in his arms, tears still streaking down his face.

"Why?" Draco asked after another moment. "She shouldn't ever want to see me again," he rasped out and his shoulders shook a little.

Ron swallowed hard. "Maybe not, maybe I agree with you, but she's asking for you, just the same. You've hurt her enough for one night. Go to her. If she's asking for you, you should…go to her," he finished, fists clenching again.

Draco nodded once, then laid a soft kiss on the baby's forehead before putting her back down just as gently. He kept his hand on her and put another over his eyes before taking several deep, shuddering breaths. Then he straightened up, took his hand from his face and gave her one last, long look as he slowly lifted his hand from her body; almost as if he were caressing her- saying goodbye one last time- and finally turned away.

Ron thought it was the most pathetic thing he'd ever seen in his life and felt his own grief suddenly threaten to overwhelm his anger. Proud, arrogant, insufferable Malfoy- the boy who had made their years at Hogwarts hell, who had tormented them all on more than one occasion, who had taken the Dark Mark long before he'd agreed to switch sides- had lost a child tonight, too.

"Go," he choked out, pointing and Draco didn't give him another glance as he passed by the other boy. Ron turned from him and hesitated at the edge of the partition. Then he walked in. She was his, too. Draco may have felt entirely responsible, but Ron knew that if he had made different choices earlier in the year then maybe none of this would have happened.

Her death was in a small way his fault, too. He didn't wonder at Malfoy's tears, for in another moment he was crying as well.

Madame Pomfrey stopped Draco at the second set of curtains with a hand on his shoulder. "She's quite weak, Mister Malfoy. I wouldn't advise staying long."

Draco nodded, face still wet, though he was no longer crying, and walked in. Hermione looked just as pale and lifeless as her daughter and for a brief second Draco's heart stopped beating again. But then her eyes fluttered open and she looked over at him and mouthed a word.

He practically collapsed at her side, his hands grasping the one she offered, shoulders bowed low again. He had to lean close to hear her, for she was speaking.

"You- you can't blame yourself, Draco. You can't blame yourself."

His grip on her hand tightened, but he didn't say a word. He knew it was important to her, to say these things. She would blame him later, when she had more energy. When she wasn't in the throes of grief herself. Right now she was feeling magnanimous and forgiving and so she had to say such things while she had the chance. Because in a few days…a few hours, even, she would start to hate him. He knew that much. He was certain of it. She wasn't his anymore, after all. That part was over.

"Draco, please, talk to me…"

"About what?" he managed.

Her eyes fluttered closed. "Tell me about her. What did you think of her? Madame Pomfrey tried to put her in my arms after- after…" she stopped and took a breath, trying to gather her energy. It was a chore just to open her mouth. "I couldn't hold her. I'm so…weak…" At that she grit her teeth and began to cry and Draco spent a few moments brushing away her tears and shushing her softly.

"You'll get to hold her, Hermione," he told her. "She's…she's perfect. Beautiful. The most beautiful thing I've ever seen, after her mother," he added with a crooked smile and Hermione tried to crack a smile too.

They were pathetic together.

"She's tiny," he murmured. "Just a wee little thing. I love her," he admitted. "As much as I love her mother. Hermione, I'm so sorry-" he choked and bowed his head. Hermione shook her head weakly and tried to lift her other hand to him, getting as far as his forearm before it fell. He lowered his head and cried against it, kissing her knuckles softly as he tried to gather himself. She turned her hand over and cupped her palm against his cheek.

"Tell me more," she pleaded, tears in her own eyes still.

Draco nodded and swallowed thickly. "Brown hair- so light it barely covers her head. Your hair," he added. "Grey eyes." He didn't add that they both knew all babies had grey eyes to start with- it wouldn't make a difference to them, now. In this eternity of teenaged love and grief, it was an image they would carry until they both joined her. "Ten fingers- tiny fingers. Your nose. Your chin. She's perfect, Hermione."

It was gratifying, in some small way, that she never once asked for Ginny, or Ron, or even Harry. That he was all she wanted just then. But he also knew it would have to end soon. So, it was with great reluctance that he finally straightened up and placed a chaste kiss- the sort he should have been giving her all along- upon her cheek; then stood, gently extracting his arms from her.

She didn't ask where he was going. Just gave him another weak smile and clutched at his hand and asked him to visit her again tomorrow, when she was feeling better.

"You'll come back, won't you?" she asked him, her eyes wide and worried.

"If you want me," he murmured, and the guilt was overwhelming.

"Of course I- we're friends now, aren't we? More-" and she stumbled over the words in her anxiety, questioning something they'd established months ago, "more than friends?"

His grey eyes met hers for a long moment and he could feel the years of their enmity stretching between them, long and limitless, bridged only by this one insane year and the little thing that was now lying dead across the way. He tried to smile and found he couldn't. Could barely breathe, in fact.

"If you want," he repeated, helpless to know what the right thing to say or do just then was. Helpless to give her what she wanted, when his own guilt was pressing on him so heavily.

"If I-" she broke off and searched his face. "How could I not want?" she asked finally, brokenly. "Draco, how could I not-"

Her hand clutched more tightly around his and he felt the air go out of him entirely. He grasped her hand as well and looked down at them, willing himself not to cry again. They were children! They were-

Parents. Friends. Companions. Soldiers.

And he, he was the worst of the lot. But she wanted him. As much as he was sure she would be disabused of the notion before the sun rose, he leaned forward and kissed her lips as chastely as he'd kissed her cheek. She smiled at him then, through her grief and confusion and it was a beautiful sight for him.

"You'll come back?"

"Yes," he told her. Then he left. He brushed past Ginny on the way out, who was in the infirmary as well, since they'd all needed a good look over. Not to mention Fenrir's damage to her brother…he chanced one glance towards the huddle of Weasleys and shuddered.

That was what he was going back to tonight; back to Fenrir and the Carrows and Snape and Voldemort. And Bellatrix. He felt his anger overwhelm his grief with the thought of her and Ginny didn't bother to catch his arm as he passed her. The look on his face told her all she needed to know. Potter tried to stop him, though.

"What?" he bit out and Harry stared at him hard.

"I understand what's been going on, what you're doing," he said shortly.

Draco knew at once what he meant: the double agent business, the spying, the protecting Hermione- he wondered if the Unbreakable Vow had been broken itself with the death of the his daughter- no, Ron's daughter- and Dumbledore's passing.

"And?" Draco replied stiffly.

"And I want you to know that-"

"Now is not the time for apologies, or making up, or whatever the fuck it is you think you're doing, Potter. I have to go and meet those murdering shitheads so that my cover's not broken. Now get-"

"Meet them?" Harry asked, brows drawing together.

"Yes, meet them! They still think I'm one of them, despite Granger. They have done all year! Now I have to go meet them and fulfill my end of the bargain."

"Dumbledore's already-"

"Not that," Draco said with a shake of his head. "The other thing. I have to demand retribution!"

"Retribution-" Harry's voice broke off of its own accord and Draco gave him a sharp, pinched stare.

"You mean for the baby," Harry said slowly.

"Glad you understand. Now get the fuck out of my way," he hissed and pushed past Harry into the outer corridor, closing the door behind him. He rested against it for a long second, eyes closed, savoring the feel of his sorrow one last time. There would be no place for it where he was going. Only anger and vengeance.

Merlin, but he was only sixteen. He wondered how he would survive.

Draco opened his eyes, blinking back the last of his tears and looked down the hallway to where someone was standing, looking at him. For a wild moment, he thought he was seeing Hermione, until he realized the girl was much shorter; only a child. Her face was heart shaped with a round chin and rosy cheeks. Her skin was creamy and pale and her hair was as brown and bushy as Hermione's, but her eyes…

Her eyes were a pale grey and they took him in with a wisdom he feared he would never possess. He returned her stare, drinking her in, his eyes wide and searching while she favored him with a thoughtful gaze.

Then, with a small, shy smile, she turned and walked away, disappearing around a corner.

Draco stifled a sob against his arm, squeezing his eyes shut as he learned to breathe again. Then he straightened himself, took a shaky breath, and followed the vision out of sight as he went to meet his fate.

AN: My apologies to any who did not see this coming. I've had this chapter written for months.