There'd been a point when she'd been resigned to the fact she'd never have those things. She'd told herself that there'd be more important things to console herself with; Harry and Ron would still be alive, Voldemort would be defeated, the world would be better. That knowledge would be enough to fill the emptiness.
But Harry and Ron weren't alive. Voldemort wasn't defeated. The world felt so broken she didn't know how it would ever be better.
Now she felt the loss of the simple things.
“Can I have my books back before you go?” she asked, looking up at him again.
“I'll have Topsy bring them.”
She looked down at her shoes. “I'll try to go for walks again. Stroud was right, it is important for the baby, so I should do it.”
She looked up and gave a small smile.
Draco stared at her, and eventually her smile faded. She looked away towards the window. It was so — open. Her fingers twitched, and she slipped them behind her back.
“I'll go with you,” he said. “You don't need to go alone.”
He extended his hand, and she took it.
They went outside and walked slowly along a lane lined with fruit trees, their fingers entwined. The blossoms had faded and been replaced by leaves; their path was canopied by the arching branches.
“I used to climb these trees when I was a boy,” Draco abruptly said.
Hermione looked over him in surprise. He'd always been silent during the walks before. It was unfamiliar to have him be conversational.
He stared down the lane, his expression far away. “I was told not to climb them, but when my lessons for the day were done, I'd come and try to.”
He looked over at a gnarled apple tree near them. “I got stuck in that tree. It seemed enormous to me at the time. Topsy tried to get me down, but I wouldn't let her. I sat on that branch, shouting for my mother for an hour before she came home from Diagon Alley.”
Hermione studied the branch only a few feet above ground, and her mouth quirked up.
Draco turned. “If we go down this lane and cut across the field, there's a pond where I used to catch frogs. There are usually ducks and herons there. I was given a net for my fifth birthday, and I used to try to catch anything I could find. They were for my zoo. I used to say I was going to be a magizoologist when I grew up. I was very set on the idea that I would travel to Africa someday on an expedition. My father was horrified.”
Draco was expressionless as he spoke. Hermione felt a growing sense of unease.
“I was the terror of fairies and gnomes,” he added after another minute. “I got bitten once by a gnome, trying to dig it up. Bled everywhere.” He gave an empty laugh. “My mother was terrified I'd end up with a scar.”
He started walking slowly down the lane again, still holding Hermione's hand.
“I always liked flying. My father gave me a toy broom when I was two, despite my mother's objections. Theodore Nott and I used to race each other all over the estate. I nearly broke my arm crashing into the side of the manor when I was eight.”
He was quiet after that until they reached the end of trees. “Topsy will go with you. She's cared for several babies. She nearly raised me for the first few years when my mother was unwell. She helped Ginny with James too.” He looked over at Hermione. “It's arranged now — her ownership will transfer to you. She's a good elf. She'll know any stories about me you could want.”
Hermione stopped walking as she realised what he was doing.
He was trying to give her what she wanted. For him, acknowledging that he would have a child meant acknowledging that he wouldn't meet it.
He was telling her stories so she could tell his daughter about what he'd been like before school, before the war.
He was making arrangements.
He stared out across the fields. “The magic on the estate will go dormant unless my father produces a new heir,” he said a moment later. “Assuming he does not, the manor will recognise and accept a descendant — if she wants to claim it. There are documents I'll have for you to take, to make a formal claim on the estate if you want it legitimised. But there's no reason you'll have to return, there are vaults in your name already and other assets I've transferred that would be easier to liquidate.”
Hermione's shoulders started to shake.
Draco looked at her. His eyes were a stormy grey and intent as he studied her face. “I brought you too far. You're tired. We'll go back.”
Hermione still didn't move. Her throat felt thick, and her legs were threatening to give out beneath her. She had a thousand things she wanted to say and felt at a loss about how to communicate any of them.
He stepped closer. “Can you walk back?”
She managed to shake her head infinitesimally.
He stepped closer, moving slowly and gauging her reaction. He slipped his left arm around her waist and lifted her up into his arms, carrying her back towards the manor.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder as she started to cry. She cried in his arms the whole way to her room.