This is a one-shot I wrote for TearJerker Tuesday in a Dramione Fan fiction Forum on FB.

TW: Character Death

He could tell by the way she said his name that something was wrong. It was cautious, quiet, and muttered with a sharp exhale, so unlike her usual way of calling to him. It had no annoyed bite to it, no exasperated sigh afterward. It wasn't spoken in the heated way that indicated good times to be had. It was odd enough that he gave pause and looked up from his book.

"Hermione?" His eyes locked with hers from across the kitchen table and he noticed how wide they were, how frightened. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and his stomach dropped like it was weighted with rocks. The book gave an audible thud as it was quickly discarded. "What's wrong?"

A trembling hand raised up from under the table and his gaze drifted from her face, his heart skipping a beat. Her hand was red and sticky with blood."The baby…"

He didn't need to be a healer to know that it was far too early for this to be happening. She still had eight weeks left. He cursed and jumped into action, pulling her up from her chair and tugging her towards the Floo. "Just... hold on. It's going to be alright," he told her, trying to put as much confidence into the words as he could.

She shook her head as if to dispute his reassurance. "It's too soon." There was an edge to her voice and she scrunched up her face, gritting her teeth and holding onto her stomach. "Draco, it's too soon." She said after the contraction subsided. "I can't-"

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and wrapped his free arm around her. "I know, love." He let the green powder fall from his hands as he called out, "St. Mungo's!"

One moment they were in the modernized fireplace of their flat and the next they were in the large waiting room at the front of the magical hospital. They made their way across the room to the welcoming desk, leaving tiny blood splatters along on the white floor in their wake. The witch behind the desk hadn't even had time to ask a question before he calmly, or as calmly as he could, said, "My wife is going into premature labor."

The staff went to work immediately, whisking her away down the hall leaving Draco to frantically chase after them. He was trying so hard not to lose his composure. He had to trust the Healers to know what to do. He knew premature births were risky, and the survival rates weren't a good as they should be, but he didn't want to go down that rabbit hole (Thanks, Hermione for making him read that blasted book) until he had too.

An oxygen mask was strapped to her face and he could see her breath fog up against it. There were tears in her eyes and her hands kept traveling to the swell of her stomach. Her fear was tangible, it hung heavy in the air around them and he could almost taste it on his tongue. It tasted like copper. It tasted like blood.

Her hand shot out, searching for his and he took it, running alongside them as she squeezed. She tried to tell him something but a mediwitch told her not to speak. "You'll be ok. The baby will be ok. It's going to be alright," he repeated over and over. He needed her to believe it. He needed to believe it.

They wheeled her into a small sterile room that was even more intimidating and started hooking her up to things. Muggle machines, he noted. St. Mungo's was probably the biggest facility to utilize Muggle technology to the fullest extent. He'd been skeptical at first but now, watching them sticking a needle in her arm and administering some type of fluid, he was grateful for their foresight. There was only so much that magic could do. At least when it came to childbirth. One of the machines beeped in time with Hermione's heart and a moment later a faster one joined it.

Everything was happening so fast. He'd always been boastful about his ability to remain calm in all situations, he could take down some of the best solicitors in Wizarding Britain without working up a sweat, and when he found out he was going to be a father he was rather happy, excited even, but what was happening now had thrown him for a loop. There was not a calm bone in his body. His brain could hardly keep up with the information he was processing and he found himself pulling at his hair as he anxiously waited for them to assess the situation.

"How far along is she?" someone asked.

"Thirty-two weeks, sir," someone else answered.

Draco tore his eyes away from his wife's face and tried to pay attention to what was being said.

"We won't be able to stop the labor. She's already 8 cm dilated," an older Healer with gray hair and a crooked nose told a younger, brown-haired woman to his left. "The baby's heart rate is steady for now. We'll see if she can continue to labor on her own for awhile but I need someone to get a room ready for the infant. I won't take any chances with it not being full term."

There was a flurry of movement and suddenly there were only two mediwitches left in the room with them. He turned to one of them. "Would you get a message to someone for me? I don't... I don't want to leave her alone."

The witch smiled. "Of course. Who would you like us to contact?"

"Harry, er, Auror Potter. He should be in his office by now. Tell him his friend Hermione is in labor and we request his presence as soon as possible."

She wrote the information down and disappeared.

He pulled up a chair and sat down, just watching the rise and fall of his wife's chest. "Draco." Her voice sounded weak but she smiled up at him, the mask no longer covering her mouth. "We're having a baby."

"Yes," he agreed, brushing her hair off her sweaty face. "We are. Soon now, love."

"I can't believe it. Our lives are about to change forever."

Again he agreed with her and held her hand when another contraction hit. He remained by her side, stroking her hair, whispering encouragement and kissing her temple as the minutes dragged on. Then, on a particularly hard one, he heard an uptick on the monitor. "What does that mean?" He asked the concerned looking mediwitch by the machine.

She didn't answer him, instead, she called for the Healer.

His wife pulled on his hand. "Something is wrong."

The Healer rushed in and when the next contraction hit went into overdrive. "Tell them I need an Operation room stat. We need to prep the patient."

"Operation?" He asked. "Is she ok? Why does she need an Operation?"

"Every time your wife has a contraction your baby's heart rate goes up, Mr. Malfoy. This happens sometimes but the best course of action is to take the baby via C-section, as the Muggle's call it," the Healer must have seen the concern on his face because he continued, "while there are always risks involved it is a very common procedure."

Draco found that the Healer's words didn't relieve him.

Time passed quickly after that. Within minutes they were pulling him to the side and handing him a pair of light medi-robes and shoving him into a different, brighter room when he was finished. Hermione was already prepped and waiting when he practically slid to the side of her bed. Her breath was shallow and he couldn't see the curly hair he'd learned to love so much because it was trapped beneath a cap.

Anxiety thrummed inside of him. He wasn't really comfortable with all this Muggle stuff on a good day, so the fact that they were about to slice into his wife's abdomen to yank out his child was more than a little panic worthy. He tried to focus on her face when they said they were beginning. Their hands were entwined once more but this time it felt as if she was the one comforting him.

He needed to do something, anything to keep his mind clear of worry, so he started talking. "You're doing great. So great. I love you so much. I'm so proud of you." He continued repeating those short, calm sentences. "You're doing wonderful, love. We're almost there. Almost at the finish line, yeah?"

Her brown eyes filled with tears. "We're about to be parents. You're about to be a dad."

He kissed her temple and muttered, "hopefully I don't screw up too bad."

She shook her head. "Never."

A tiny cry broke them from their sweet nothings and they both looked up as the Healer announced, "Congratulations, mum and dad. You have a beautiful baby girl."

A strange feeling rose up inside of him, sweeping away all the worry and anxiety. It was as if his body couldn't contain such emotion. Love. Joy. Pride. Contentment. The feeling put all words to shame. She was so small but her cries were loud and he cried with her. "She's…" he choked on the words, "she's perfect."

Hermione sobbed next to him when the baby was placed in her arms. "Hello, love! I'm so glad to finally meet you." She kissed the baby's face despite all the bodily fluid that still coated her. "Mummy loves you so much. So very much, Atria."

Draco smiled. The name fit her perfectly.

"We need to take her for a moment to make sure everything is alright," one of the witches said, interrupting the happy family and holding out her hands to take her, "we'll bring her back as soon as we can."

"Right. Yes, of course." She gave Atria to the woman and laid her head back down. They were still working, stitching her up or something, so all they could do was wait.

"You're bloody amazing, you know that?" He whispered, kissing her hand. "I knew there was a good reason I married you."

She gave him a tiny smirk. "Well, I'm still not sure what my reasoning was."

He felt a grin forming on his face and he honestly thought he might weep in joy. They'd done it. They'd made it and now they had a beautiful daughter and they were going to be the best parents. Everything was going to be fine. Everything was fine.

Until it wasn't.

"Draco." For the second time that day hearing his name sent a chill through him.

Alarmed he looked at her, really looked at her and the sick feeling crept back up his throat. Her face, which had been rosy with hard work and tears, had suddenly gone very white. Her eyes closed, her hand went limp, and every machine in the room started going crazy.

The Healers were yelling and the witches were moving but the noise was fading out. All his senses dulled and focused on her.

No.

This couldn't be happening.

Not her.

Not now!

"Hermione!" He cried, shaking her, "Hermione, wake up!"

Please. Please.

"Please!" hands grabbed him but he fought against them, "No! Get off. Get the fuck off of me!"

"Sir! We need you to calm down and wait in the hall."

"I'm not leaving her!" He screamed, trying to wriggle out of their hold. "She needs me!"

"Mr. Malfoy, please. We can't do our jobs if you are here. Please understand. We are trying to save her life!"

And just like that, he stopped fighting.

She was dying. They were trying to save her life but right now she was dying.

Oh.

He took one last look at her, breathed her in and said, "I love you. I love you, Hermione. So please, please don't leave me. I can't do this without. I can't be without you. So please... stay with me."

She didn't respond of course because she was still unconscious and being poked and prodded, but he knew she could hear him. She had to.

He let himself be led out of the room and into the hall. "We'll let you know how she is as soon as we can." He nodded grimly and watched her green robes disappear back into the surgical room. Back where his wife was fighting for her life.

He sank down onto the cold floor, letting his back rest against the wall. He wiped the tears from his eyes and breathed deeply.

He could do this. He could remain calm. They were doing everything they can and they'd done it before.

The memory of her colorless face popped in his head and he slammed it backward, thunking it on the wall.

This couldn't be happening. Everything was fine. Everything was fine! Why was this happening? He couldn't lose her. He just couldn't!

"Malfoy?" The sound of Potter's voice startled him but he'd never been happier to see the other man in his life. "What are you doing out here? Is she ok? Did she have the baby?"

"Yes, just a few minutes ago," he replied, standing up slowly.

Harry's eyes swept across his face and he frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Where's Hermione?"

Draco's chest tightened painfully and his eyes stung as he tried holding back the tears. "She's…. they're working on her…. she... I don't know what happened. She was fine... but then she wasn't. I think the main Healer said she was bleeding out."

The other man's mouth popped open. "No. No way."

"It's bloody true, Harry. She... she was unresponsive when they kicked me out," he hissed, kicking the wall. "They kicked me out and there's nothing I can do for her. And I... I can't do this. I can't lose her. she's… she's the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can't lose her."

Warm hands grabbed ahold of his shoulders, anchoring him. "It's going to be ok. It's... they are working on her. We just have to stay calm, ok?"

"I can't stay calm! My wife is dying!" The outburst caught the attention of a few people nearby but he honestly couldn't give a flying fuck less.

"Draco, breathe, alright. Look at me." Draco did as he was asked and took a few deep breath's while focusing on the sound of his friend's voice. "There's nothing we can do right now. We just need to wait." Harry dug his thumbs into his shoulders. "Now, why don't you tell me about my goddaughter?"

He blinked a few times, unsure if he had heard him wrong. "Are you daft? Hermione's in there being operated on! Now is not the time-"

"It is, though," Harry insisted, "tell me about her."

He thought his friend was off his rocker but he did as he was told. Anything was better than the terrible silence. "She's... she's beautiful. And so tiny. She weighed just under 5 pounds and was 18 inches long, I believe." The tightness in his chest loosened a little. Maybe Potter was onto something. "Her hair is blonde but I didn't get the chance to see her eyes. She was too busy crying," A small smile tugged his lips, "but she's wonderful."

"Is she in the nursery?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so. They took her away to run tests to make sure she was ok. She just came so early."

Harry opened his mouth to say something else but at that exact moment the door clanged open and one of the Healers stepped out. "Mr. Malfoy."

The tone of his voice and the way he held himself immediately screamed bad news. "No." He said, backing away from the man, the very air in his lungs being sucked out of him.

There was a look of sympathy on the wizard's face as he continued, "I'm truly sorry-"

His whole world tilted on its axis. "No!"

"-we did everything we possibly could-"

"Don't tell me that!"

"-but we couldn't stop the hemorrhaging. The patient passed away during the operation."

Draco rushed at him, stopped only by Harry's iron grip on his arm as he screamed, "You told me it was a common procedure! It was supposed to be safe!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy. I also told you there are always risks, even in perfect circumstances. Bleeding out is one of them."

"No! Don't you dare! I trusted you!" He raised a finger accusingly at him. "You fucked up! Bring her back! You hear me! Bring her back!" His scream echoed off the empty walls and Harry pulled him back against his chest, his arms wrapping firmly around him to hold him in place.

The older wizard took in the sight and sighed sadly. "We can do a lot of things Mr. Malfoy, but we aren't gods." He turned to leave.

"What about the baby?" Harry piped up, his voice broken.

"She is fine. She should be in the nursery by now. Someone will come and get you momentarily."

Draco felt the man behind him nod in recognition and the Healer tilted his head, leaving them with his final parting words. "I am sorry for your loss."

Silence.

There was nothing but silence as they stood there, Harry's arm still wrapped around his chest as he tried in vain to catch his breath.

"Draco."

"No." He tore away from him. "Don't."

Softly he tried again, "Draco."

"Don't, Potter!" He warned, his heart racing. Anger and sorrow were seeping into every crevice of his body, of his soul.

This felt wrong. The world felt wrong. It was all wrong. There couldn't be a world where Hermione Granger ceased to exist. He didn't want to live in that kind of world.

It wasn't fair. She should be here. She should be smiling and holding their daughter. She should be poking fun at him for crying like a girl when he'd seen her cute little face. She should be telling Harry the good news. She should be here. With them. With him.

He couldn't do this. This had to be a dream. a nightmare. There was no way she was dead. Not her. Not his Hermione. No way. No. No. No!

"Breathe, Draco."

His eyes snapped up, and ok, he hadn't realized he'd dropped to his knees on the floor. Everything hurt. He was breaking apart. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think and he couldn't focus on anything but the pain. There was nothing but the biting gnawing pain crawling through his chest.

Harry was still talking to him, begging him to breath, begging him to focus, so he sucked in air through his mouth and exhaled through his nose. He tried to concentrate on the feeling but the pain continued. He'd never really believed that heartbreak was real. It was just a term people used to explain the pain of a bad break-up, but he knew now just how wrong he was.

His. Heart. Hurt. It ached and felt as if it might explode right out of his chest. He could feel every thump, feel the blood pumping through it, and it felt like he'd swallowed a stone. It was excruciating.

Suddenly his mouth opened and tearful words started spilling out of it. "Why? Why? Tell me! Why her?" he sobbed, clenching his hair with his fists, "why not me?! I'm the bad apple! I'm the bastard! I'm the mean one! Why take her? Why take the one with the heart of gold? Why take the one who deserves life the most?!"

He didn't know exactly who it was he was talking to, God, maybe? Whoever it was that stole his wife away. The one that stole something so beautiful from this world, from him, from their daughter.

"It's not fair." His chest heaved and the unbearable anger seemed to drain out of him. Now he just felt lost. Broken. Alone. He looked up at his wife's best friend, his friend and saw that tears were streaming down his face too, his nose red and face blotchy. He could only imagine what he himself looked like. He probably looked a lot worse. "How am I supposed to do this alone, Harry?" He asked, his voice hoarse. "How am supposed to raise Atria without her? How am I suppose to take up that torch? I'm no nurturer. She needs her mother."

"You won't be doing it alone, ok? You have us. You have Ginny and me," he promised, "and, no, it won't be the same but you can do it. You have to do it. You're her father, Draco. It has to be you. It's what Hermione would have wanted."

He ran his hands over his eyes and tried to pull himself together. "You're right. Of course, you're right. Shit."

"Mr. Malfoy." He cringed at the voice calling to him -he was already sick of hearing his name- but he turned his head to look at the witch anyway. "You can come see your daughter now."

He didn't respond so Harry nudged him. "Come on, Draco. She needs you."

He nodded. Ok. He could do this. He could.

Atria may have lost her mum, but she hadn't lost him. But he still didn't know what to do. He wasn't prepared for this. He wasn't prepared for her death. Her dying hadn't ever been a consideration. He wasn't ready to tackle any of it. He wasn't ready to be a single father. He wasn't ready to walk into an empty flat. He wasn't ready to bury his wife. The thought made him sick and he felt like he was going to lose it again. He clenched his fists and breathed deeply a few more times.

He could do this. He had to. But he didn't want to go to the nursery alone. He needed someone to ground him."Will you... can you stay with me... just.. " he struggled to find the right words.

Harry saved him the embarrassment by saying, "of course. Of course, I'll stay with you as long as you need me. I can... I can call your mother if you want."

Oh, gods. His mother. His mother would be devastated. She's only just accepted their marriage and the two of them had bonded over the pregnancy. "No." He coughed out. "No, thank you. She'll want to hear it from me. I will do it. But not right now. I need... time."

The other wizard had nothing to say to that, so they just silently made their way to the nursery.

When they arrived, Atria was the only baby there.

"You were right. She is beautiful," her godfather said in wonder, "and she has Hermione's lips. Look at that pout."

He nodded absently. She did. She really did have Hermione's mouth. He picked her up and held her to his chest, speaking quietly to her as he rocked gently. "Hey, princess, it's your daddy. I know it must be scary being out here in the weird cold world, but I promise I'll protect you. I'll always be here to protect you."

Harry stayed silent as Draco bonded with his daughter. He didn't leave, though. He stayed with them until the tears stopped, until the sun set, until there was nothing left of him to give.

This had been the worst day of his life and there was an ache so deep inside of him that he feared would never be filled. Bt he took solace in the fact that at least he'd had the privilege of spending the last six years with the love of his life and she had given him the greatest gift, their daughter. And maybe the ache would never leave. Maybe it would be there forever, but maybe, just maybe Atria would fill a piece of it.