He remembered the joy they had shared when they first found out. Hermione had thrown her arms around him and he had picked her up and kissed her and held her tight, and they were happier than they had ever been before. After so many months of being disappointed, finally they could be happy.
Happy.
But now it was difficult to recall those beautiful feelings they had once felt. Ron sat in the hard metal chair that was suddenly as cold as ice. She sat on the examination table, the wax paper that covered it crinkling loudly in the silence that filled the room. They were both looking down, avoiding each other's eyes as the healer left the room, the door closing with a click. The doctor had said something about past physical stresses affecting their ability to conceive. He knew immediately that it must have been Bellatrix, and he hated her now more than ever because after all these years, she had still found ways to torture them. After a few moments, he stood and looked at her. She slid off of the table, grabbed her beaded bag, and walked out, still not looking at him. He tried to reach out to her, comfort her, just touch her, but she moved her arm away and kept going.
Ron walked faster to keep up with his wife, wishing she would at least look at him. He had a feeling that he knew what was going through her head. She felt like her worst nightmare had come true; she had failed. Not only had she failed, she had failed him. But he would do anything to make her see that
Eventually they reached the small parking lot, which only had two other cars. They had taken their rarely used automobile because apparating of taking the Floo wasn't safe for their unborn baby. But now the car just served as a reminder of what they had just lost.
For the entire car ride, Hermione sat waiting for Ron to say something, but he never spoke. She felt the quiet weighing down on her. With every minute that passed, her guilt grew heavier. She knew that it was her fault that they had lost their baby, something Ron had wanted so badly. She had let down the two people she had loved he most. And now, because of her, only one of them was left.
It wasn't difficult not to cry. She didn't feel any sorrow or pity for herself. In fact, right now, she hated herself.
Hermione watched the clock for the whole ride, counting the minutes since she had learned that her miracle was gone, and counting down the minutes until she could get home, get under the covers, and sleep forever.
Ron waited for Hermione to say something, but she never spoke. He didn't want to say anything to upset her, especially when he knew that the thoughts running through her head were getting worse and going faster with ever moment that passed. He wanted to erase them all, but knowing his lack of eloquence, he feared he would only make things worse.
Neither of them were aware that what both needed in that moment was each other.
Eventually they arrived at their small flat in London. Hermione quickly got out of the car and hurried inside, her quick breaths creating small puffs of fog in the cold night air. She fumbled with her keys at the door, something she had not done for years, because a quick spell was much easier. But things were anything but magical.
Ron followed Hermione inside, but this time he did walk as fast. He wanted to give her some space, but he also wanted to have just a few seconds of time to think about what had just happened, and what it meant for him, and them. But soon enough he was inside the flat and it was time to face things again. Hermione had left the door unlocked, the kitchen light on, and her bag on the table, but otherwise there was no sign of her. He lit the stove and watched the fire erupt under the copper kettle. Quickly he prepared a cup of tea for Hermione that he knew would go untouched, but he hoped it would act as a sort of peace offering, or at least remind her that he cared.
He went into the bedroom, where as he had expected, Hermione was curled up under the covers, the only part of her visible being her eyes, forehead, and a mess of hair. He set the tea down on the nightstand next to her and she sat up, finally meeting her eyes. They portrayed so much emotion; sadness, grief, but most of all, and most alarmingly, apology.
She should never apologize to him. For anything.
Slowly, cautiously, he reached out and brushed a frizzy curl from her face. Suddenly she was clutching him and sobbing into his shoulder. He held her and let the tears come to him as well.
Hermione succumbed to her sadness as she cried and cried. Allowing the tears to come didn't only mean that she was letting herself feel sad, it also meant that she had, in some ways, forgiven herself. She knew somewhere deep down that it wasn't her fault, that sometimes bad things happened to good people. And she felt Ron's arms around her and knew that they would get through it.
They knew that they would always be sad. And tomorrow was Sunday, which meant that they would have to tell all of the Weasleys that their baby was gone. And they didn't know that sometimes they would go days without thinking about it, or that Hermione would put the old ultrasound in some obscure place, and they would find it every once in a while and feel sad all over again. They didn't know that they would lose two more precious children before they had Rose, and another one before Hugo, or that it would be three more years until they finally held their baby in their arms.
But none of that mattered, because they would always find a safe haven in each other's arms.