Hermione fixed her gaze on the hands in her lap, gnawing on the inside of her cheek while she studiously avoided looking in Draco's direction. She really didn't need an image of him holding a baby to sear itself into her brain. She didn't want to know what he looked like while gazing down into the face of the tiny little girl, didn't want to wonder if he was thinking about having a child of his own with his soon to be wife. Didn't want to feel the ache she was feeling, wondering if, in another life, if she had done everything right, if it would be their child he was holding. It was no use feeling those things. It didn't matter that she ached for it, longed for it more than she did for her missing magic. She had ensured it was perpetually out of reach and she would fucking live with it until... well until she didn't, she supposed.