a round, pink face and a halo of blond curls, fine as spun sugar.
“You were in a coma for almost nine months,” he explained. “They think it was Dolohov’s curse. Your body was fighting it so hard, it had to shut nearly everything else down. You couldn’t have been
“You were in a coma for almost nine months,” he explained. “They think it was Dolohov’s curse. Your body was fighting it so hard, it had to shut nearly everything else down. You couldn’t have been
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“The baby?” she asked, her voice rusty.
He smiled. “She’s absolutely perfect. Strong and healthy. Look, she’s got your nose and
“What’s her name?” she asked.
“You tell me. You did all the work,” he said, watching as Hermione sank back into the pillows, exhaustion overtaking her.
She closed her eyes. When she woke, she felt better. Draco was there, as he said, holding the baby in a rocking chair and feeding her a bottle, singing softly to her.
She watched as the baby finished the bottle, and Draco changed her nappy. Then he brought the baby to her bed, helped her sit up, and set the squirming,
“Oh, yes, she’s been a good eater. Not so great with sleep.” Hermione looked into Draco’s face and saw a great many more wrinkles than she remembered and dark shadows in his eye sockets.