Chapter Text
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“Draco…?” Her weak voice struggled to hold onto his name as he dragged his chair across the hospital tile flooring. He thumped down onto the chair. He gripped carefully onto her sickly pale hand, brushing his thumb softly against the bones. A force of habit. A comforting signal for the both of them.
“Malfoy!” Her loud, projecting voice would always bounce around the Ministry corridors during his first few months of him working for the DMLE, alongside Scarhead. He was concerned, worried, anxious, all the words really, about seeing Granger again for the first time since the War. He’d seen glimpses of her during the final battle. And she and Scarhead were there to speak at his trial. The one moment that stuck out most during the war was- That time must have been- yes, at Malfoy Manor. Her body writhing on the floor in the drawing room, the chandelier, now no longer there, twinkled against her screeching body. His manic Aunt Bella crawled all over, craving that word, that disgusting slur into her forearm. He was known to have nightmares. The nightmares got distressingly worse when the Dark Lord took up residence in his family Manor and was constantly lurking other the Malfoy’s like Death. Waiting. Waiting for them to mess up. They were still occurring. The ones in which he was transported back to that same drawing room, that same time when she was there, were always the worst.
The day that she had started him by his given name was one that he constantly remembered vividly, he liked going back to it. Warm happiness spread around him. It kept him warm on the lonelier nights when she was in treatment. Hermione and he hadn’t been dating for very long, about a month or two. She didn’t like calling him ‘Malfoy’, said that it felt like being back at school when he couldn’t stand the sight of her. He loved her calling him anything. ‘Draco’ was obviously the best thing to fall from her mouth, especially when it revealed how indestructible her love for him was. She was Hermione to him but also wasn’t. He was used to calling her ‘Granger’ and ended up calling her it for months, ‘Hermione’ was only used in their more intimate, private moments together.
“I’m here, my love. Everything is going to be alright now.” He brushes away a single teardrop from her cheek, caressing her softly, hoping that all of his warmth would keep her holding on for just a few moments longer. Stay with me, Hermione. Always and forever, remember. You promised me that we would live forever and pass one day together.
When she had started getting ill, he was terrified. He didn’t want to lose her. Not yet anyway. Call him selfish, he didn’t care. Hermione had said, very early on in their relationship in fact, that she wanted to grow old with him. Surrounded by their children and then their grandchildren. She had promised him that they would live forever, conquering the world, and then one day they would pass on together.
“Scorp…?” Her voice shakingly rattled. She tried to sit up in the uncomfortable hospital bed, searching and reaching out for someone that wasn’t there to be found. Her boy. Her small bundle of pride and joy. Their son.
He could never describe the feelings he felt when Hermione had told him that she was pregnant, that he was going to be a father. He was more ecstatic when they found out the sex of the baby and it was revealed that he was going to have a son. Their son. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy. He was perfect. Their perfect little boy. When Hermione would look through scrapbooks of baby photos of herself and Draco, she had discovered that Scorpius was the perfect combination of the two of them.
Draco shakes his head, “Pansy and Theo are babysitting for us. I couldn’t let him see you like this Hermione. He needs all of his happy memories of you. Memories of you being well.” He sniffles, trying to hold it all together for her. Her grip on his pale hand tightened, whitening at the strength of her grip. “These can’t be his final memories of you.” Hermione nodded in understanding.
“Mummy come play?” He remembered a two-year-old Scorpius asking his mother as she sat in the shade by the rose garden at the Manor. Hermione hadn’t long found out that she was deathly ill, and was warned to go slow with how much energy she put herself through throughout the days with her family and friends. They were told that two years ago, the mediwitches and wizards hadn’t expected Hermione’s condition to deteriorate that much. Hermione even visited her old Muggle doctor and he expressed his concerns for her condition but also claimed the same thing the St Mungos doctors had claimed, that she’d have a lot longer to live.
Hermione tried to act like her normal self around Scorpius as much as her energy could permit her to. She would play with him, his giggle bouncing around the Manor, filling the house with warmth and life again. She would watch from the shadows as Draco would hold Scorpius on the broomstick they had got him for Christmas before his third birthday. She would laugh to herself as Scorpius would shout, “Hi Mummy!” across the mini quidditch pitch that they had for him. Scorpius would shout and exclaim and giggle as Draco would make whooshing noises to replicate the wind that would fly through and tussle the young boy’s hair when he was old enough to fly on his own broom.
“I love you, Draco.” She speaks, her strength pushing through his thoughts, her through to say it without her voice rattling or breaking away. She takes in the details of his face. Her favourite details. The colour of his grey eyes against the awful hospital lighting, giving her hope. The sharpness of his cheeks. The way his blonde hair curled in front of those grey eyes, she just wanted to reach out and brush away the sweaty waves. Another one of Hermione’s comforts.
“I love you, Draco.” She murmured against him as she kissed his lips after another successful date at a restaurant in Diagon Alley. Rita Skeeter probably lurking amongst the bushes, most likely waiting to get the newest scoop to then sell on to the Daily Prophet.
“I love you, Draco.” She whispered into his ear, lightly nibbling, after their first time together in bed. Laying together in the afterglow of sex. He had worshipped her. He always continued to worship her inside the bedroom and out.
“I love you, Draco.” She had declared on their wedding day, repeating it again and again, making sure the words sank into his skin to make sure he knew how much he was loved. She declared those four words daily.
“I love you, Draco.” The words she had wanted to declare at the Yule Ball. Seeing him dance around with another student was heart-wrenching. But after a glance around the ball, she noticed that his entire attention was on her. He had admitted after a couple of dates that that was when he realised that something was different. He had started falling for the gorgeous muggleborn in periwinkle.
He smiled at her. A genuine smile. His genuine smile. Hermione was the first person to achieve and witness his genuine smile. After that first time all those years ago, hidden, in sixth year, she lived for the moments that she got to see that gorgeous, life brightening smile across his face.
His genuine smile didn’t leave his face on their wedding day. He smiled at her throughout the entirety of their ceremony, only half listening to the official, his full attention on his glowing Hermione. Golden. She was golden that day. The sparkle of her periwinkle blue earrings glistened as the sun shone brightly down onto the couple.
His genuine smile radiated around the hospital room as Hermione sleepily clutched a newborn baby Scorpius against her chest. Swaddled in a soft baby blue blanket. Her golden brown eyes staring down at matching brown eyes, curiously looking around the brightly lit room, searching until Draco stepped into his view. The newborn reached out for his father. She thought it was impossible but Draco’s smile stretched even bigger.
His genuine smile was her favourite smile.
The grip on his hand loosened as her hand fell limply to her side. A single, monotone beep coming from somewhere filled the echoey grey room. Quickly, a mediwitch walked into the room, lightly tapping Draco on his jumper-covered shoulder but he couldn’t move. Frozen in time for what felt like hours. Staring down at his wife. His love. His entire world. Gone. He didn’t even get to say that he loved her back, even though she knew how much he loved her.
“I love you, Draco.” A kiss on his cheek.
“I love you, Draco.” An exchange of rings.
“I love you, Draco.” A crying newborn baby passed into his arms.
“I love you, Draco.” Her final words.
“Can I just get a moment alone with her please?” He spoke quietly into the room, not taking his eyes off Hermione’s body. He didn’t know whether the mediwitch had exactly heard him until the door quietly snapped shut.
“Please be nicer to them Draco. They are only trying to help us.” Her voice had spluttered, ending with a hearty cough into a handkerchief, Draco’s initials in the corner. She was complaining about his treatment and anger towards the St Mungo's hospital staff but he had every right to be angry. Hermione wasn’t improving, if anything her health was declining quicker than anyone had expected. He wanted her to be healthy. His perfect Granger. His golden girl.
He stood up from the chair, taking Hermione’s hand back into his own. He smiled lightly down at her. She was finally at peace. Not in pain any longer. The fight on her body to stay any longer for two boys was finally over. I love you, Hermione. He pressed his lips to Hermione’s knuckles. I love you, Hermione. Breathing in her floral scent, strong hints of lavender drifting around him and the equipment in the room. I love you, Hermione. Pressing his eyes to look back up at her one more time before leaving the room, he placed her hand back carefully by her side, stroking his thumb against her knuckles as he did it. He slowly stepped backwards, never taking his eyes off her for a second.
He watched her swirl around the Great Hall, hints of periwinkle in his vision dancing, laughing, and just having the time of her life. Ignoring all of the hateful stares for once as she clutched to another man’s arms. One day that would be me. He remembered thinking as he watched Krum twirl her around the room, her laughing loudly as the music bounced off them.
“I love you, Hermione.” A kiss to her forehead.
“I love you, Hermione.” An exchange of rings.
“I love you, Hermione.” A crying newborn passed into her arms.
He reached for the door handle behind him, coldness shocking his system. He’d have to inform everyone. The Potters. Her parents, Jean and Richard. His mother and that possibly meant informing his father. Pansy, Theo, Blaise. The Weasleys. Maybe he’d ask the Potters for help with that task. The Ministry would need to be informed. The world. Their golden girl was no longer. No. Correction. His golden girl was no longer.
But the one person he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together for was his very own son, Scorpius. The way that his speckled golden brown eyes would hold in all of his emotions and show them truly when the rest of his face had to keep it all together. Be strong for his father. Just the way that hers used to.
He glances up towards her. Peaceful. Eyes closed like she was sleeping away a nightmare.
“I love you, Hermione.”
“I love you, Hermione.” His final words to her.
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