Hermione vaguely registered the sound of the door sliding shut as she studied Draco. He'd turned white, and his expression was more devastated than anything else. His fingers kept twitching.
“Draco… come see her.”
He swallowed. “Granger—”
“She's your daughter.”
His hands twitched, and she could see the muscles in his jaw clench.
“I know.” His teeth flashed as he spoke through them. “I remember it happening.”
The smile on Hermione's face faded away, and she flinched, holding the baby closer. It was like being slapped or plunged into ice water.
The happiness evaporated as though it had been an illusion. A dream she'd hidden herself inside.
She swallowed and looked down at the baby in her arms. The silence in the room was so heavy, she felt as though she were being crushed under it.
There were certain wounds that never fully faded. That likely never would.
”I think I should go,” Draco finally said.
“Come here,” she said in a flat voice, looking up at him again.
He looked despairing as he stared at her and so pale it was as though his heart had been carved out of his chest and he was bleeding to death in front of her. He wasn't making any move to get closer.
“Draco, come here,” she said again.
He hesitated a moment before he moved forward slowly. She slipped her left arm free and took his hand, pulling him closer until he sat down on the edge of the bed beside her.
Hermione drew a deep breath as she tried to determine what to do. She'd thought he'd gotten used to the idea of the baby, that they'd mostly managed to reconcile what had happened before her memories returned.
He hadn't wanted to rape her. He would never have done so if there'd been any other way to save her. He'd never expected her to forgive him for it.
Maybe he still didn't.
She squeezed his hand tighter. He seemed unwilling to have any kind of physical proximity to Hermione or his daughter.
Her mouth was dry. “You — you promised to care about her. If you — if you—” her jaw started trembling, “If you were going to leave after she was born — you should have told me. This was a new beginning. All three of us. Remember? We left it all behind — all of it — so we could be together. You haven't even looked at her.”
She shifted the baby to show her face better, but Draco stiffened and looked away. It was like being cut through, the rejection was physically painful.
“Look,” her voice was fierce. “You have to look at her.”
Draco reluctantly glanced down.
“She's just a baby. She's not going to hurt you, and you aren't going to hurt her. Just look.”
Draco's head jerked sharply up and he gave a short, ragged laugh as he tried to pull his hand free. Hermione refused to let go. His expression was strained, as though he wanted to be anywhere, anywhere else on earth but where he was.
“Granger—” he said in a voice so tight it was shaking, “the only thing I do is kill things.”
Hermione stared at him and then gripped his hand more tightly.
“No,” she said forcefully. “That's a lie. You saved me. You saved Ginny and James. You could have been a healer. You can be a good father, I know it. It — it might not ever be natural for either of us, but we'll both try our best. You—”
“Hermione—” he released a sharp breath as though he'd been kicked. His voice was raw, and he still wasn't looking at her.
“Granger…” he tried again to pull his hand away. “Granger, I've — I've killed children before. The last — infant I touched, I used the Killing Curse on after I executed its mother.”
Hermione froze, staring up at his face.
At some point she had known that he'd likely killed children, but she'd dissociated from the knowledge. Ignored it.
Wizarding folk and Muggles. Friends and strangers. Men and women… and children.
She'd known it all, but she'd also forgotten it.
Then she remembered Stroud's matter-of-fact tone when she'd offered to relieve Draco of an unwanted female child:
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. “You didn't have a choice. You didn't. You didn't have any choice.” She looked down at their daughter. “We're starting over now. She's going to grow up away from the war, and we — we're going to leave all that behind. We're going to take care of her and keep her safe. Both of us. We're both going to take care of her.”
Hermione turned towards Draco so that the baby lay in her arms between them. Their daughter's silver eyes peered up at them. Her hair had dried into a halo of brown curls around her head. Her face was pink and still looked slightly squashed. Both of her hands had escaped swaddling and were up near her face. She was aggressively sucking on the knuckles of her right hand.