Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K Rowling owns all.

A/N: I was in an angst-type mood when I wrote this, so it's a little depressing. Please review anyway!

"Avada Kedavra!" the words shook through Harry's entire body, and he was sure his heart stopped beating.

"No!" his scream was caught in the autumn wind and torn away from his mouth like a leaf. He saw the green light flash brightly in front of his eyes, and saw, in slow motion, as her body fell to the ground, lifeless. He flew over the battlefield, tripping over bodies of the dead and the dying, his broken led tingling in protest. He could feel nothing except numbness, his arms and legs felt warm and floppy as he pushed himself onward. He felt himself hit his knees beside her body, and check for a pulse. There was one. The battle raged on behind him, but for Harry, it was all over. He felt as though his heart had been ripped out and thrown to the Giant Squid. Quickly, he scooped her up and scanned the field for the nearest hospital tent or medic. Seeing one within ten feet of him, he painfully climbed to his feet and hobbled to the tent. Don't let her die, please, Merlin, don't let her die…I need her…please…his mind was frantic, trying to sort out emotions and pain and everything, while not going into overdrive. He pushed back the canvas flap of the tent and scrambled inside.

"Harry! What are you doing in here?" came the voice of Luna, who's talents, it had been seen, lay in healing, and she had been offered a place as a field nurse for the War.

"P-please," Harry stammered. He nodded with his head towards Hermione, who still lay limp in his arms. "She needs help."
"Oh, sweet Merlin," Luna whispered to herself. Turning around, she shouted, "We need a stretcher over here! Get Healer Johnson! Now!" Carefully, she took Hermione from Harry's grasp and laid her on the stretcher which had just been levitated over. Harry's arms felt strangely empty, and there was a weight in his heart. No! She can't be gone…not Hermione…anyone but her…

"Harry, we've got it now," Luna placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You need to get back out there."

"Voldemort is gone," Harry said, his voice garbled slightly from the rush of adrenaline and the pain coursing through his leg. "We're just dealing with the other Death Eaters who are really pissed off now. Please, I-I need to stay. Please," there was a hint of begging in his voice, and Luna could see that he was on the point of hysterics.

"Fine, you can stay—but only after you get that leg checked out by one of the healers," she said, glancing down at his leg, which was stuck at an odd angle and was dripping rivers of blood onto the grass.

"No!" he protested, biting the inside of his cheek to stop the pain. "After…I need to see that she's okay. Please…I need to stay with her." Luna tisked disapprovingly, but led him behind the curtain that separated Hermione from the rest of the tent. There was a hubbub of healers and nurses surrounding her, administering potions and casting spells. Each had a grim look on their face, though Harry ignored them. She would live. He wouldn't allow anything else. Immediately he hobbled to her side and took her hand.

"Mr. Potter," Healer Johnson came up beside him. "You shouldn't be here right now. You need to get that leg checked out."

"No," Harry growled, giving Healer Johnson a steely glare. "I'm staying with her, and the next person to tell me that I shouldn't be here will get cursed. I'm right where I need to be. My leg can wait, but she can't. Got it?" his voice was deathly calm, and Healer Johnson knew not to even approach the subject of getting his leg healed.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," he said, and went back to monitoring Hermione's condition.

"How bad is it?" Harry asked after a moment. "Seriously, and don't give me any crap."

"We're not sure she'll pull through at the moment, Mr. Potter," Healer Johnson said, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. "She is not physically strong enough to sustain a curse like the one she was hit with, and her heart has stopped three times. We're not even sure she'll make it through the night." Harry nodded and turned back to Hermione. Come on, I know you can do it. I love you…don't leave me. He placed a kiss on the hand he was holding.

"We'll be moving her to Hogwarts in about five minutes," Healer Johnson said. "There we can monitor her in a more sterile and safe environment. Apparently, shortly after you came in here with Hermione, the battle ended, so we'll be moving all casualties and bodies to Hogwarts for safekeeping." Harry nodded again and didn't say a word.

Sure enough, a short time after that, Harry agonizingly hobbled after the stretcher that bore Hermione up the rocky path that led to the castle. He barely even registered that his leg was still broken, and that he still in pain. His mood matched the weather as the rain pelted him and everyone else, sending goose bumps up his arms and making him shiver. Another half an hour of walking felt like an eternity, until finally, Harry collapsed into a chair next to Hermione's bed in the hospital wing of Hogwarts. More bustling, more tests, and more monitoring. Harry looked at Healer Johnson expectantly.

"I'm sorry Harry, there really is no change in her condition," he said gravely. "We'll know by tomorrow if she will survive or not—if she survives the night."

"Isn't there anything you can do? Anything at all?" Harry asked pitifully. Healer Johnson had never seen anyone look so heartbroken.

"No, Harry, I'm sorry," he said. "You are the only known survivor of this curse, and so the prognosis is not good. Luckily the Death Eater who cursed her has been identified—"

"Who was it?" Harry asked, anger flaring up.

"Er…let's see…" Healer Johnson looked at his chart, flipping through the pages. "Ah, here it is. Bellatrix Lestrange, it seems. At least, that's what's on record. Like I was saying, it was lucky for Hermione that the Death Eater who hit her with this curse had already been injured, and therefore was not quite as magically potent as she could have been, and therefore neither was the curse. There is a chance she may pull through, but that chance is slim and dwindeling. If she goes on much longer in this state, her vital organs will start shutting down, and even if we put her on life support, there will be too much irreversible brain damage to fix. She will be, in essence, a 'vegetable'."

"What about now?"

"If she wakes up within the next forty-eight hours, there should be no problems with either brain function or vital organs,"

"Is there a chance she can wake up in the next two days?"

"A very small chance, yes,"

"Then I refuse to believe that she won't,"

"I'd be careful Harry; you don't want to set yourself up for heartbreak,"

"Keep your opinions to yourself, please. I've had about enough of people trying to tell me how I live my life,"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Healer Johnson said, and there was a few moments of silence as he performed some more spells. After a few spells, a look of astonishment and extreme worry crossed his face, though Harry failed to notice. Tentatively, Healer Johnson approached the young man sitting next to the bed.

"Harry, you say you and Hermione are romantically involved?" he asked.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"Just answer the question, please,"

"Yes, we are married, if that's what you're asking," Harry readied himself for the lecture that was sure to come: You're too young; you don't know what you're getting into…blah, blah, blah. He'd heard it a million times before, and if he had to hear it again, he just might snap on top of everything else.

"Then, Harry—there's something you should know," Healer Johnson said, looking him in the eye.

"Oh, yeah, what's that?"

"If Hermione does not survive, she won't be the only one killed,"

"What do you mean?"

"If your wife dies as a result of the curse, you will lose not only her, but your child as well,"

"We don't have a chil—oh," a look of realization dawned on Harry's face. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he asked in awe.

"Hermione is pregnant, Harry," Healer Johnson said. "And judging from the spell administered, I'd say she's about four weeks along….and would you like to know the sex?"

"You can tell that early?" Healer Johnson nodded. Harry nodded in return.

"Well, in about eight months, if she survives, you will be blessed with a healthy baby boy,"

"A boy?"

"Yes…at the moment, his due date is set for next June,"

"June?"

"Yes, the fourth, actually…provided that Hermione lives through this,"

"She's really pregnant?"

"Yes…are you alright, Harry?" Healer Johnson looked concerned; Harry's face had paled visibly, and he seemed to be swaying where he sat in the chair.

"Yeah…I'm fine…I-I think I'm going to go out for some air," Harry stood painfully and limped out the door. He was halfway out the door when he turned around. "You'll notify me immediately if her condition changes?"

"Of course," Healer Johnson said. "Immediately." Harry nodded and walked out the door. The Healer of twenty years sighed. Poor boy. He's only setting himself up for heartbreak…why, oh, why did I tell him his wife was pregnant? Just add more heartbreak on top of the heap when she doesn't pull through, why not? I've never seen so much tragedy in one person's life. Healer Johnson shook his head and went back to tending to his lifeless patient.

Harry decided that a stroll around the grounds might appease his spirits, and so he hobbled off in the direction of the lake, only to be met by Ron.

"Ron!" he shouted, enveloping his friend in a hug. "You're alive!"

"Sure I am, mate!" Ron said, in his usual jovial tone, "It'll take more than a few Death Eaters to keep me down!" Harry gave a little half-smile at his friend's good mood, before sitting down on one of the rocks that lined the large lake.

"What's with you?" Ron asked, flopping down onto the grass in front of him. "I would have thought you would be happy, with Voldemort gone and everything, and there being only a few casualties….unless…." Ron's fine humor was wiped away completely as the realization sunk in. "Hermione is okay, isn't she? She didn't die, did she?"

"Not yet," Harry said, staring down at his shoes.

"What do you mean 'not yet'?"

"She was hit with the Killing Curse, and even though it wasn't as strong as it could have been, she's still in critical condition. They say her heart's stopped three times already, and they're not sure if she'll make it through the night, and that there is a small chance she'll survive, that chance is slim and getting slimmer," tears welled up in his eyes. "I can't lose her, Ron, I just can't."

"You won't have to, mate," Ron placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "This is Hermione we're talking about. She'll pull through."

"Oh, but there's more," Harry said bitterly as he kicked a pebble into the water. "If she dies, she won't be the only one I'm going to lose."

"Meaning?"

"She's pregnant, Ron," Ron's eyes widened.

"P-pregnant? As in, you and she are going to have a baby?"

"Yeah, a boy…if she makes it through,"

"Wow, they can tell that early?"

"That's what I said," Harry chuckled lightly, but stopped immediately. It didn't feel right to make light over what was happening. This was his wife and son he was talking about. He'd do anything for them.

"Why couldn't it have been me?" he whispered.

"You know Hermione wouldn't have wanted that," Ron said. "You know that she would have preferred to lose her own life than to have you lose yours."

"But this entire thing is my fault," Harry took off his glasses and wiped away the tears. "I didn't want her to go in the first place—but I let her, because she said she'd be fine. If I'd only known she was pregnant….I never would have even let her think about coming with me. She would have been at home, knitting or something. And then she wouldn't be in the Hospital Wing."

"Yes, but then you wouldn't have survived," Ron pointed out. "Because when you got home, she'd kill you for putting her through that much worry."

"But at least she and him would be safe," Harry said.

"She may not have known she was pregnant, Harry," Ron said, "Otherwise you know that she wouldn't have fought. She wouldn't have like it, but you know that if she knew she was pregnant, she would have stayed home."

"I just can't stand this!" Harry pounded a fist on the rock. "I can't stand it, not being able to do anything for her, not knowing whether she'll be okay, whether she's in pain, or anything!"

"I know, Harry, I know," Ron said, soothingly. "But think of it this way—when she pulls through tomorrow morning, you'll know that all of this worrying has been over nothing, right?"

"Right," Harry said, though is heart wasn't in it. Looking out over the lake, he changed the subject. "So, what about you?"

"Everyone's okay, although I'm not sure that Fred and George will quite so good-humored as they used to be, and Mum's still in shell-shock, but other than that, we're all here and accounted for…even Percy,"

"What about everyone else?"

"It seems that our year has suffered a few casualties—"

"Like who?"

"Well, like Blaise Zambini, one of the Patil twins, though I don't know which one; Luna's father, and there were a few others, but not much,"

"And how is Luna?"

"She seems to be okay…for now. Right now she's at the Burrow, being force-fed roast and potatoes by my mother," Harry smiled wistfully and looked at his watch.

"I think I'm going to head back to the Hospital Wing," he said absently, and agonizingly picked himself up off the rock.

"You really should get that checked out, mate," Ron said, wincing as he looked at Harry's broken leg. Harry rolled his eyes.

"So I've heard," he muttered, and staggered back to the castle. Ron shook his head and ambled off in the opposite direction; his mother was expecting him back soon.

"How is she?" Harry asked immediately upon entering the Hospital Wing. There was a hustle and bustle of activity around her bed, and it made his heart leap into his throat.

"Someone get Healer Johnson over here!" shouted a nurse. "We need him over here, now!" Healer Johnson was busy pulling his lab coat on as he rushed over.

"What's going on over here?" he asked, picking up her chart and flipping through it.

"We're losing her, Healer Johnson, her blood pressure and heart rate are dropping, and the stats on her vital organs show that they're in the early stages of failure," the nurse, a hefty woman in her fifties, said. Healer Johnson took out his wand and muttered a few spells under his breath. Nothing happened. Thinking fast, he mumbled a few more. Again, nothing happened. Harry's mind had gone into complete shut-down mode. We're losing her, we're losing her, the words taunted him over and over and over again, playing in a broken-record fashion. He stood, stock-still, in the doorway, while Healers and nurses bustled about his wife, trying her save her life. Finally, after the fifth time of muttering incantations under his breath, Healer Johnson seemed to have found the right combination, and everything slowed.

"Alright, we're in business now," the nurse said. "Vital signs look good, blood pressure is still a little low, but should be fine, heart rate is good; nice work, Healer Johnson." Healer Johnson gave a small smile and wiped the sweat from his brow. Harry slowly shook himself out of his stupor and made his way towards Hermione's bed.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't be here," the nurse said, placing a hand on Harry's chest and pushing him away. Anger boiled in his veins.

"I'm her husband," he said, trying to push past.

"I don't care if you're bloody Harry Potter, you aren't getting through, so please, go away!" the nurse turned around to attend to Hermione.

"Nurse Grey," Healer Johnson cut in, barely concealing a smile on his face. "First of all, that is Harry Potter, and second, I told him he can stay." The nurse looked at Harry, squinting slightly. Pulling a pair of glasses from the pocket of her apron she looked at him.

"Oh, so you are. I'm so sorry, Mr. Potter," she flushed slightly. "Of course you can stay."

"Thank you," Harry said irritably, once again setting up his vigil by her bed. The nurse stammered another apology and walked out, pulling the curtains that had just recently been placed around the bed closed. Harry took Hermione's hand in his and squeezed it tightly. Come on, love, please wake up. For me, for him…please wake up. Glancing down at her peaceful-looking face, he was reminded of all the moments that defined his relationship with her, every moment that he loved the most about being with her.

"Will you marry me?" he asked, bending down on one knee in the snow.

"Oh, Harry, as if you needed to ask," she said, pulling him up and kissing him passionately. "Of course I will." Harry smiled; that was one of his favorites and to his surprise, it hadn't taken quite as much courage as all the hype said it would. Then, he though back even earlier.

"I'minlovewithyou," he said in one breath, going red in the face and avoiding her gaze.

"What?" she asked, her face showed confusion.

"I'm in love with you," he said again, slower, his face hot. There was a moment of silence.

"Well, Harry…" she began.

"I know what you're going to say," he said, dejectedly.

"You do?"

"You're going to give me the 'let's just be friends' speech, aren't you?"

"Actually, I was going to say that's the best news I've heard in years,"

"I love you," he whispered in her ear, one afternoon as they snuggled on the couch in the Common Room, watching the fire.

"I love you too," she murmured, falling asleep in his warm embrace.

"You are a song, a dream, a whisper, and I don't know how I could have lived without you for as long as I have," he began to lightly trace circles into her lower back.

"You stole that from The Notebook," she giggled.

"Yes, I did, but it articulates perfectly how I feel," he said, placing a kiss on top of her head.

"Oh, Harry," she yawned, before falling asleep.

"No! You're not going and that's that!" he yelled at her, making her shake slightly where she stood.

"Harry James Potter! I most certainly am going, and there's nothing you can do to stop me!"

"No! You're not going to fight, end of story!"

"And who's going to stop me?"

"I am,"

"Oh, yeah? You and what army?"

"You're not going,"

"And why not?"

"Because I said so!"

"Oh, that makes sense,"

"Because I won't have you killed, that's why?"

"And who says I'm going to be killed?"

"Hmm…let's see, because you're Muggleborn, you're incredibly intelligent, know more spells than all the Death Eaters combined, you're my wife, and they know that if they kill you, that will be the surest way to kill me. You die, Hermione, and Voldemort wins!" he dropped his voice to a low murmur and stepped closer to her. "I can't live without you, and you know that. Please, don't make me go through that. I've lost too many people in my life. Don't make me lose you too."

"I'm not going anywhere, Harry," she said, enveloping him into a hug. "I'll be there at the battle, and I'll be there after the battle. I promise."

"You'd better be," he said, tears spilling down onto her shoulder. Harry winced. That was the very conversation that ended them up here. How could he be so stupid? Why did he lock her in the house or something?Of course, then he'd not only have Voldemort to face, but a very angry wife when he returned home, just like Ron said. He shook his head and tried to think of happier times.

"Aw! They're so cute!" Hermione said as they made their way through Diagon Alley. One of the apparel shops was having a sale on newborn clothes, and they had just happened to pass by the display window.

"Is anything really that small?" Harry wondered aloud, snaking his arms around Hermione's waist and resting his head on her shoulder.

"All babies start off that small," she said matter-of-factly. "And some are even smaller, if they're born premature." Watching her in the reflection of the window, staring with warmth at the baby clothing and toys that were prominently displayed, Harry couldn't help but feel an overwhelming affection and protectiveness for his fiancé, and he was so overcome that tears welled up in his eyes and he sniffed slightly.

"What's wrong, love?" she asked, turning around in his embrace and looking at him with worry. He shook his head and cupped her cheek with a hand.

"I just can't wait to have that with you," he whispered, kissing her softly.

"I can't either, but let's wait a few years, okay?" she smiled at him and entwined their hands together.

"Deal," he smiled in return and they wandered off down the street. Harry again slapped himself mentally. Of course, now they did have that, and it might all be ripped away from him at a moment's notice. Life was so unfair. He wiped his eyes with the back of his free hand, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

"Come on, love, you can make it," he whispered. "Please make it." Looking at his watch, he saw that it was well past midnight, but he couldn't sleep. Between the worry for his wife and the pain in his leg, he could tell he was in for a multitude of sleepless nights. Smiling softly to himself, he thought that if Hermione pulled through, in a few months, he'd be having many more sleepless nights. He rejoiced softly, that one being the first positive thought he'd had in hours. Finally exhausted, he fell in and out of a restless sleep in the chair he was sitting in, waking up every few hours and panicking, thinking that she had died and he hadn't been awake to be there for her. When every time he woke up she seemed fine, he would fall asleep for another few hours, only to be awoken later with the same panic. At around six in the morning, he gave up trying to sleep, and instead picked up Hogwarts: A History, and began to read to her.

"Harry, you know she can't hear you," Healer Johnson said as he poked his head in at around eight.

"You don't know that for sure," Harry growled, giving the Healer a death glare. Healer Johnson nodded quickly before retreating to another patient's bed. He glared at the curtain for a few seconds after the healer had left before going back to reading to his wife. After an hour, his throat was parched, he'd been through three glasses of water, and he was on the last chapter. Just as he got done reading the last page, he felt her hand move in his. He gasped and nearly dropped the book onto the floor. His heart skipped a beat, and he prayed that he wasn't feeling things. But no! There is was again, and he could see her eyelids fluttering.

"Hermione?" he asked, grasping her hand a little tighter. Finally, her eyes opened, and glanced blankly at the ceiling for a few moments.

"Healer Johnson! Healer Johnson!" Harry shouted. The Healer came running from the next bed over, where he happened to be checking on a patient with severe mental recovery issues. Seeing Hermione awake and looking slightly confused, he grabbed a few nurses from around the room and dragged them into the small space. In all the commotion, Harry was inadvertently pushed out of the room, and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't get through.

"Nurse! I need a vitals check, now!" Healer Johnson said to the nurse next to him, and she waved her wand over Hermione, before turning to Healer Johnson with a huge grin on her face.

"Everything looks good, Healer Johnson," she said. "Vital organs look excellent, heart rate is back to normal, so is the blood pressure. Brain activity seems well."

"I need a vitals check on the fetus as well, please, nurse," Healer Johnson said. The nurse waved her wand over Hermione's abdomen, the grin never leaving her face.

"Everything looks excellent with the little one," she said. "The spell didn't seem to hurt him at all."

"Good, good," Healer Johnson muttered. "Please go get her husband for me, nurse."

"Of course, Healer Johnson," the nurse said, before pushing back the curtain to allow Harry in.

"You can come in now, Mr. Potter, she's been asking for you," the nurse smiled. Harry leapt up out of the chair he'd been sitting in while they evaluated his wife and rushed to her side.

"Harry? Ah, there you are," Healer Johnson had a wide beaming smile on his face as he clapped Harry on the back. "She's going to be just fine. And so is the baby. Both of them are going to be just fine, though Hermione might be a little sore for a few days." Harry nearly fainted out of relief before taking Hermione's hand in his and kissing it.

"Harry?" she whispered, turning to look at him.

"I'm here, love," he said. "I'm here."

"Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, tears rolling down her face. "I'm so sorry."

"For what, love?" he asked, just so relieved that she was alive, that she was going to be okay.

"I'm sorry for convincing you to let me go fight. I knew about the baby, and I went anyway. I'm so sorry; I don't know how I could have been so stupid, so selfish. I just couldn't stand seeing you go out there and possibly never come back, and me be sitting at home, not knowing whether you were hurt—or killed, or anything," she was openly crying now, tears streaming down her face and soaking the neck of her shirt. "I didn't want to tell you about the baby because then I knew you wouldn't let me go…I'm so sorry. And now, here I am, and I could have killed our child. I have got to be the worst mother in the whole world." She started to cry again, and it broke Harry's heart. He gathered her up in his arms, shushing her and rocking her, whispering words of reassurance in her ear.

"Shhh…its okay," he placed a kiss on the top of her head. Sitting her in front of him, he tilted her chin up so that they were looking at each other eye to eye. "Look at me. You are not the worst mother in the world."

"But I could have killed the baby by doing something so stupid," she protested.

"That may be so, but you wanted to make the world a safer place for him, and you actually did something in a positive direction to make that happen," he said. "And besides, I think if there was any chance that you thought that you really wouldn't make it through the battle; you wouldn't have gone, would you?"

"I suppose not," she said. "So, you're not mad at me?"

"Mad at you?" he looked at her with genuine surprise. "Hermione, I just went through two days of hell sitting by this bed not knowing if you were going to survive or not. I'm just so relieved that you and the little one are going to be okay, and besides, I could never be mad at you," he kissed her tenderly. "I love you too much."

"I love you, too," she said. Scooting over on the bed, she patted the spot beside her, and Harry nodded, climbing in painfully beside her, and taking her in his arms.

"Harry, what happened to your leg?" she asked in concern. Looking down at it, he saw that it was still stuck at an odd angle, and that it was covered in dry blood. Rolling her eyes playfully at him, she grabbed her wand from the bedside table, muttered a spell, and in an instant, the leg was healed. Harry smiled, and snuggled closer to her. He placed a hand on her stomach.

"I can't believe we're having a baby," he said, a huge grin spreading over his face as he bent down to kiss her. "And a boy, at that!"

"They can tell this early?"

"That's what I said. Healer Johnson said that he'll be a healthy, happy little boy."

"Of course he will, love," she said, tracing designs onto his chest. "With you as his father, how could he not be?"

"Don't forget with you as his mother," he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I love you, so much."

"I love you, too," she said, falling asleep to the sound of his heartbeat.