A soft sob slipped out from his mouth as Draco pulled her close, tucking her head under his chin and burying his face in her hair. She let him hold her a little too tightly as his chest shook under her cheek, gripping him back just as hard. In her head, she called Voldemort every foul name she could think of as she tried to keep from falling apart. Grief for herself, for her friends, for the broken, beautiful boy crushing her to himself coursed through her, for what they all might have been were it not for Tom Riddle. Even long after Draco stilled, his arms relaxing around her as he drifted off to sleep, Hermione lay awake, her heart aching for the children they never had the chance to be. 