Chapter 1: The Beginning
It wasn't my choice to fall in love with the one person I swore to never speak to after graduation. It wasn't my fault he swept me off my feet and pulled me from a dark point in my life. Never did I think I would ever see him again, let alone fall in love with him. I couldn't believe myself. I love you, he had told me I had almost fainted when I realized that it was mutual. I guessI should back up a little bit to the beginning two years after we left Hogwarts…
I sat in front of the window in my bedroom, crying so hard I almost couldn't breathe. "Hermione?" Ginny asked. "Are you okay? It's diner time."
"L-l-leave." I managed to respond. I ignored her as she told me that I had to eat. I didn't have to any such thing. I didn't deserve to live. I would trade my life for Ron's at the first opportunity that arose. Last week Harry, Ron and I had gone with a few Hogwarts friends to speak to a few of the surviving death eaters to ask whether there were any death eaters who were not currently in Azkaban prison. After pointless interviews with the former death eaters, we left with heavy hearts. On our way through the streets of the muggle world, Voldemort supporters attacked us from the shadows. We weren't prepared for the attack and no one could protect them. She and Harry managed to escape but Ron wasn't so lucky. He was killed. She couldn't believe that fate could be so mean. The night before he died he had proposed to her. He hid the ring in a cupcake for her birthday, ad of course she had said yes. She couldn't live with herself knowing that she might have been able to save him.
"Hermione dear, at least eat your apple." Said Mrs. Weasley. She tossed her an apple and left. Ron was her youngest son and she was able to move on, to cook and care for the members of the order. Harry was beside himself with grief but he was still able to do his job and to take care of himself. I had tried to be like them but I just couldn't. I would get up from my chair at the window side and the first thing I saw would remind me of Ron and I would break down into tears. His loss killed me, to the point where I couldn't move, I was paralyzed with grief. I thought nothing could pull me from my world of grief except Ron himself but I couldn't have been more wrong.
A week past and I began to feel sick in the morning. I blamed it on my depression. My sadness was beginning to effect not only my mind and heart, but it was effecting make physically as well. One morning three weeks since Ron's death I woke up to the sound of a knocking on my door.
"Come in" I said. I looked over ad saw Ginny open the door. I immediately felt sick and ran to the bathroom and vomited.
"Hi Ginny," I said. My voice was quiet and weak, as I was attempting to hold in a sob. I realized this was impossible and I broke into tears.
"Oh, Mione it's ok. Why did you throw up though?" she asked. I honestly couldn't answer that question because even I didn't know.
"We're going to get you a doctor, just lie in bed and I'll be back." She said worriedly.
"No Gin…" I tried to tell her but she was already gone. I lay on my bed in silence for about five minutes until Ginny had told the family. I could tell Mrs. Weasley was on her way up the stairs.
"Hermione dear what's wrong?" Mrs. Weasley. She rushed into the room followed by someon who I guessed was a doctor.
"What are your symptoms dear?" the doctor asked.
"I-I don't know." I sobbed.
"I'll check her out. You guys can come back when I'm done. Go on." He told them. He used a stethoscope and checked my heart beat. He did a few other tests and then left me sitting on the bed. Outside the room I heard a squeal of excitement. The doctor walked back in the room followed by Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and even Harry.
"Hermione I have some exciting news for you. You're pregnant." He told me. I could tell that my visitors were awaiting my response to the news but I couldn't think let alone speak. Inside of my body, a little Ron was growing. The baby I always dreamed of having. Three week ago this would've been the best news. Now it only pushed me deeper into my depression because Ron would not get to be a father. He would not get to meet his child. Growing inside me was a constant reminder of what would never be. I broke into tears and ignored any attempt from my visitors to comfort me.
