The Day After Tomorrow

EPILOGUE : A WINDOW TO MY SOUL

EPILOGUE : A WINDOW TO MY SOUL

"YOU don't think she'd mind?" Asked Hermione worried with wide brown eyes as she stared into the reflection of the gilded mirror, she looked brighter, vivid and wild with her explosion of curls. But she felt nauseous on the inside, like her stomach had turned itself inside out. "You're sure?"

She heard movement from behind her, a squeak of a bed and a rustle of fabric as Draco sat up. He always made her space feel smaller than it was. His grey shirt was crinkled, his blonde hair a rumpled dishevelled mess from where he'd been lying, reading through a journal on recent advancements in potion making. He set it down beside him with an audible sigh and stood.

Her eyes traced his movements through the reflection, all long lines and elegant steps till he was standing behind her, a quietly exasperated expression on his face. "For the hundredth time, no I don't think she'd mind." Draco's lips quirked up as he took in the subtle way, she was biting her lip, deep in thought. He caught Hermione's gaze in the mirror. "In fact, I think Astoria would be honoured."

When the early diagnostic had been conducted, Hermione had spent days mulling it over and then when she'd finally gathered enough courage to suggest the name, she'd felt like she was jumping off a cliff, unsure of how her idea would be received.

Draco's eyes had blown wide, a flicker of pain and something bittersweet sweeping in and out of his face. "Astoria's a lovely name." He'd said after a short moment like he was testing the sound of it, testing the idea and how it made himself feel.

She could still remember the way her voice had wavered when she'd asked what she was like. Draco had gone introspective for a moment, like he was searching for the right words. "She was brave and resilient and stronger than she ever gave herself credit for." He had looked sad suddenly, his face unusually raw like he'd forgotten to hide the emotion. "She was also more sensitive than she liked to admit." His grey eyes had brightened with another memory or thought, Hermione didn't know. "And she fucking hated to cry."

When he had gone silent, Hermione had nodded slowly, wondering if he saw it, if he heard it: the way he seemed to be describing himself. Her lips had quirked up into a crooked semblance of a smile, the words rising on their own accord: "Like you then."

She blinked away from the memory, swallowing down the emotion till she was meeting his gaze over her shoulder in the reflection. "You're sure?" Asked Hermione into the mirror, her tone worried as she stared down at the slightest bump of her stomach beneath her cotton tee shirt. You wouldn't know it by first glance, in fact she was still having a hard time believing it.

She'd almost collapsed when she'd skipped her cycle, she'd waited another month to be sure it wasn't a fluke and then almost fainted with nervousness when her thoughts inevitably moved to the next conclusion.

Baby.

She had slid down the walls of the bathroom in the dingy flat she'd rented out for her internship at St Mungo's, her heart beating at triple the pace with simultaneous feelings of overwhelming panic and tenderness. Her mind had already begun running a frantic complicated list of everything that could go wrong when she'd heard the door click open.

Merlin, why had she given him a bloody key?

A sharp stab of fear had shot through her, the same horrible feeling that overcame her when she was sprung with an unexpected pop quiz she hadn't had time to prepare for.

"Granger?" She had heard him call out her name from the little kitchen, like he had every weekend he had for the two months since he'd gotten time off from his potion's apprenticeship. "Granger where are you? I got Thai." She had felt awash with a warmth at the image. And for a second, the thought of him at the cramped muggle takeaway, fumbling with coins and chopsticks momentarily sliced through her blinding panic.