I do not own Harry Potter.
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In my head I see your baby blues
I hear your voice and I, I break in two and now there's
One of me, with you
So when I need you can I send you a sign
I'll burn a candle and turn off the lights
I'll pick a star and watch you shine
Beam me up- by Pink
Looking back, Ron wished Hermione had never gotten pregnant. The initial joy of realising that they had created a child, an actual human being had bloomed and grown as the months flew by and Hermione went from walking to waddling and from a size 8 to a size 12.
'Two whole sizes Ron!' She had exclaimed, when he had given an offhand remark that it was just a little bit of weight gain.
He remembered the nervousness and fear that had grown within him as the months progressed, how he had found himself appreciating his dad more and more as Hermione had grown more irritated with her growing belly, restless and uncomfortable.
But he also loved the entire experience, of holding Hermione close during the nights (when making love was not an option anymore) and feeling his little baby kicking, 'He'll be a quidditch player, he will, a Beater most likely', he had exclaimed much to Hermione's amusement,
He had been there for all of Hermione's Healer appointments and had beamed with joy when the Healer told him that his baby was fine and healthy and was very active. 'Might be a Chaser' Ron had mused aloud and Hermione had laughed aloud at his silliness.
Nine months had passed very quickly (though he was sure Hermione would disagree) and Ron was constantly on alert as the Healer had mentioned that it would be any day now.
How he wished Hermione never had gotten pregnant now. He wished it with all of his heart and soul.
He could hear Hermione sobbing behind the curtains, heart wrenching sobs that broke his heart into a thousand pieces.
He was holding his baby boy and wishing that he had never been conceived.
His little boy, his baby, his future,his legacy. 'Hayden' he whispered, his breath fluttering across his baby' face, moving over his closed eyelids, eyes that would never see, breath that would never be taken, cheeks that would never move upwards with the force of a child's smile, laughter that would never be heard...
He wished Hayden had never existed. But really, he wished that it was him instead who had died.
Ron held his child for the first and last time and felt himself break into a thousand pieces.
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This will be a multi-chapter fic so more to come. Next update in a few days.