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"Ron!"

Ron looked up from his newspaper, and was horrorstruck to see a pale and sweaty Hermione, clutching her stomach. She was unsteady on her feet as she made her way over to the couch, so Ron stood up and caught her in his arms before she could fall.

"Hermione, what happened?" asked Ron, now panicking.

"Ron...St. Mungo's...get me there..." she said, having difficulty breathing and talking.

"Okay, Hermione, let's go!" said Ron, trying to pull her to the fireplace, but she wouldn't move. Instead, she clutched his robes, and with what seemed to be with all her strength, she stretched up and kissed Ron full on the lips. "I...love you...take care...of...Rose...I...love...you..Ron." And with that, she went limp in his arms.

Tears starting to stream down his face as he scooped her up in his arms and made his way to the fireplace and Flooed to St. Mungo's.

Once there, he was told to stay in the waiting room, and it took all of his willpower to stay there, and not barge in to where they had Hermione.

He had not thought to send a Partronus to anyone, so he sat there alone for what seemed like hours, until a Healer came in looking for him.

"Are you the husband of Hermione Weasley?" she asked.

He nodded impaciently, desperate for news.

"I'm sorry to inform you that your wife didn't make it," she said sadly. For the next few seconds, Ron looked at the healer, confused. Finally, when the words struck him, he sank down to his knees, clutching the chair for support. The healer said something, but he couldn't comprehend, for he was drowning in his misery.

"Mr. Weasley, did you hear what I said? The child survives, you are the father of a beautiful little girl."

Ron stood up, his face blank. He did not know how to feel about this.

"Take me to her," he finally said.

And there, in a small room, was where Ron's daughter lay. He looked at her hesitantly, noticing that she had Weasley red hair, although it was bushy like her mothers.

Ron did not permit himself to think of her name, not now, not when she's only been gone from this world for such short time.

The child's eyes were open and intelligent, looking around the room. As Ron crept closer, she layed her eyes upon him. Then, everything went black.

A few minutes later, Ron found himself on a bed, the only other people in the room being a Healer and his daughter. Ron looked at the baby, but avoided her eyes, for that had been the reason that he had fainted. They were the same exact shade of brown as her mother's, the eyes that Ron loved.

I knew I would always end up hurting her beyond repair, he thought darkly to himself. The half of the baby that is like me is the one that ended up killing her, my wife, my love, my everything.

He would have hurt the baby if it had not been half of Hermione, living proof of their love.

It was pouring down when Harry heard a knock on the door. When he opened it, he saw a sight that surprised his so much that he had to make sure that it was Ron there, dripping wet, and clutching a baby.

"Ron, wha-" Then he noticed that the wetness on Ron's cheeks were not from the rain. He dragged a paralized Ron into the sitting room, and made him sit down. Ginny, who had been putting James to sleep, came waddling in, rubbinhg her stomach which was as huge as Hermione's had been.

"What happened?" Harry asked quietly.

"She's gone. Gone forever." Then Harry understood. Ginny started to sob into her hands, also understanding, understanding the fact the Hermione was dead.

"But she gave birth, then?" said Harry weakly, nodding at the baby. Ron didn't reply. Instead, he just started sobbing harder. Harry himself was having trouble blinking back the tears.

"Harry, I can't take it. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. Harry, I don't want her," he said, thrusting the baby into Harry's arms.

"LOOK AT HER EYES!" he screamed at a confused Harry, not caring if he woke up two-year-old James.

Harry obediently looked down at the baby's eyes, and sure enough, they were the same brown, intelligent eyes that Hermione had.

"I don't want her," he repeated. "I know that she died because of something to do with the baby, and I know it was because half of it is me. I knew I would always hurt her. Harry, I'm afraid that I'll do something bad to the baby, bad to the part that's Hermione. I don't want that. I know that I won't be a good father, even worse that she doesn't have a mother. You and Ginny need to take her."

Harry started to say something, but Ginny interrupted him.

"Are you mad, Ronald? We already have James, and a soon-to-be Albus! We can't take care of your baby!"

"I don't care what you tell her," continued Ron, ignoring his sister. "Tell her that she and Albus are twins, or that me and Hermione died or something. I simply don't care, as long as she doesn't know what a horrible father she has. Promise me Harry!" he pleaded. Harry simply nodded, and Ron looked imensly relieved. As he started to make his way to the door, Harry called out to him.

"Ron, what are you going to do with yourself?" Harry demanded.

Ron simply smiled, and replied,"Don't worry about me, I won't do anything too terrible. I'll keep in touch," he added.

He started walking towards the door, hesitated for a moment, then walked back to where a horrorstruck Ginny and a solemn Harry were sitting. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the baby's forehead, whispered "Goodbye Rose. I hope you'll be happy", then turned around and left into the still pouring night.