“Rest now, Granger. I’ll be right here. I’ve been here the whole time.”
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 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.
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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.
“Yes,” he said simply. She looked down at the baby again. She was positively delicious. Hermione wanted to kiss her chunky cheeks and her dimpled hands and her surprisingly long little feet.
“It’s perfect. Little Bea.” He looked sad.
“I missed the entire pregnancy,” she whispered and sniffed. “I’ll never get that back. And you’ve been here, going through everything alone?”