Mother's Day was never a good day. Yet each time she found herself in the same spot her eyes glued in front of her. She stayed there even as dark fell. Sometimes she couldn't even distinguish what hurt more, losing Harry or losing her unborn daughter. This day always brought up those terrible memories.
She still could smell that musky, moldy scent tinged with copper, could still hear the sounds of distant cries, could still feel hear heart beating violently. She had sat close next to Harry trying to gain strength from him, carelessly hoping to take it all. It was the first time she had ever really feared for herself. If not for her shell of a body but for what was growing inside her. A hand went protectively on her bulging stomach and she watched as Harry's joined hers there fingers twining together. She looked up to see that same fear in his eyes making them soft, and wet and too vulnerable. She looked away because she couldn't stand the thought that he was wavering.
She was praying that they didn't know. Praying to a god she had never believed in that he would save her child. They hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy and she hadn't begun to show that much, 'please not that much' her mind was crying and she had to clench her fists to keep from crying. Hermione waited her body one tense muscle and she couldn't relax as she imagined scenarios of horrific torture and how it had only one ending. She knew they would not spare her and even if she were to live it would be worthless. Harry leaned his face to hers kissing her ear before whispering.
"I will get you both out of here," He said and she nodded for once compliant rather than argumentative, because for once Harry was not the most important person to protect. Because in some part of her she knew that he was going to die and the least that could come from it was her life. She couldn't think about these traitorous, cruel thoughts now, she couldn't risk feeling guilty enough to give in.
"I wish we could all escape." She whispered back and started to cry because she already felt herself abandoning him, that she wouldn't be able to force herself to save him.
"It's alright." He whispered crying himself and she knew it wasn't. Noble as always Harry she thought sadly. "Just-" He choked on his words grabbing her face and kissing her deeply, passionately before releasing her. "Just keep her safe, keep her safe for me." He said his eyes watching the door now. "Teach her to read and tell her stories about Ron," She flinched at the name and he clenched her hand, "Tell stories about all our adventures even the bad ones." He paused breathing quickly. "Teach her to fly, just like I taught you. She'll have my good looks and your brains." He whispered laughing humorlessly. Hermione sobbed quietly, "She'll go to Hogwarts and be in Gryffindor and she'll be more beautiful then we could have ever imagined." He kissed her cheeks trying to take away her tears, before holding her face in his hands and turning her to look at him. "And not for a moment will you regret what you did because we saved her, you saved her and that will be you're greatest accomplishment ever." They heard footsteps and they jerked apart slightly wiping away their tears, and Hermione straightened her robes to hide the bulge as best as she could.
Harry looked at her one last time and whispered, "I'll love you forever."
"I'll be seeing you." She said smiling sadly.
"Not too soon I hope." He said before standing and facing the door his shoulders stiff.
She could remember what it was like to see them torture him even as he refused to scream, could remember watching that blast of light stop his heart, knew the exact moment where it ended. Remembered how they had turned to her and she had abandoned all her pride and strength as she knelt before them and begged them to spare her life to let her live. Remembered the cold laughter and the way it chilled her body, before they cast terrible spells on her and she had withered, cried, and screamed knowing that it was all hurting the life inside of her.
By some miracle the Order found her and stopped her from being killed. But later on she would've rather died. Not even the most skilled medi-witches or medi-wizards could repair the damage done to her baby, Harry's baby and she had a miscarriage. Life seemed to slow for her then, and days passed like years and she just sat in the house that should've been a home. Each year she left on that one day and went to the cemetery to the graves of her husband and child. Gazing at the tiny tombstone motionless and trying to draw from it her little baby daughter, not sparing a glance to the large ornate tombstone of her husband, her Harry; even at these times she was unwilling to admit what hurt her most. And she would tell stories of her adventures with her two best friends, the good and the bad; she would try not to cry but nothing could stop the flow of tears as she thought of all that she had lost. Mother's Day was never a good day for her.