Hermione found herself picturing babies with scrunchy-red faces and big grey eyes; toddlers with lovely straight brown hair and pointy little chins; little school-age mini-Draco’s – but without the bigotry – going off to Hogwarts on the train. Draco would probably want to name the child after some astronomical thing, to continue the apparent family tradition, and she imagined a dark haired, grey eyed little boy with a pointy chin and a name like Pollux. A delirious smile spread over her face for a moment, and then faded too quickly. Hermione stifled a hysterical, teary laugh; she knew dreams of babies and ever-lasting love were silly thoughts. She knew even the probability of both her and Draco surviving was slim enough.