Dominic absently turned his face a little, pressing his lips against her stomach. He had to remind himself of what he did have. He had Hestia, and he had their child, and he had the knowledge that Hannah had been alive long enough to write a note about how nice Lestrange had been at the very least. Her handwriting was something he knew quite well, from her letters when she lived with her grandparents, or little notes she would send from Hogwarts, even from the first awkward looking words she learned to write as a child. The letter was no forgery, and that was something. If he dwelled on the positives perhaps he would live to see that day that Hannah would be home.

"I can't sleep." He sighed quietly. He had dozed off several times over the last two days, but the events seemed muddled together to the point where he couldn't remember sleeping, only the waking hours of living hell, waiting, hoping.