Chapter 2: A Best Mate's Duty
Well, Harry had been right about one thing. The Horcrux mission had been hard. But it had been made all the more hard once he and his friends had discovered that Hermione was pregnant with Ron's child. Though Harry was happy his friends had quit dancing around their feelings for each other, he had initially panicked upon hearing the news. A knocked up Hermione would not be nearly as useful as a fully fit one.
Still, Hermione had proved her tenacity by continuing to help with the mission however she could. When it had come time to explore a new place for a Horcrux, she and Ron had argued about her joining them or staying with the tent. Hermione had almost always won these spats ("I don't see why I have to stay here like an invalid when you yourself made it clear how much you and Harry need me. Our baby will be fine, Ronald Weasley! Now shut up and let's start packing!"). Even when they had gotten into some pretty rough spots (Godric's Hollow, Malfoy Manor), she had come through for herself and her unborn child, though barely in the case of the latter event.
Now it was May, and the Golden Trio had returned to Hogwarts. The battle for the wizarding world had begun with the force of a bomb. Currently, Harry and his friends were running around the castle, searching for a way to kill Voldemort's snake, Nagini.
"It could be anywhere…" Hermione was saying, when suddenly a screech filled the air.
"OI! Filthy Mudblood! Get over here so I can finish killing you and your lowly spawn properly!"
Bellatrix Lestrange, Hermione's torturer at Malfoy Manor, was charging up a staircase towards them. To Harry's horror, she raised her wand at her. "Avada Kedavra!"
"No!," came a roar. And before Harry could stop him, Ron leapt into Bellatrix's path, taking the curse himself.
"RON!" Hermione and Harry screamed in unison. Hermione fell to her knees and sobbed over her lover's body. Harry quickly jumped in front of them and, in a fit of rage, screamed "Bombarda Maxima!"
The entire staircase collapsed in on itself with a deafening roar, swallowing Bellatrix and anyone else in its way. Though Bellatrix was not killed, her reckoning would come later.
"Hermione, come on!" Harry cried. "We have to move!" He tried to pull her away and out of danger, but Hermione clung to Ron's corpse as though it was her very soul. Running out of options, Harry slung Ron over his shoulders and scooped Hermione into his arms. Staggering under their weight, Harry headed at a very modest clip to the nearest safe haven…which turned out to be the hospital wing. As he went along, Harry suddenly felt something wet cascade along his arms and front.
"What-?"
Hermione let out a cry of pain. "Harry, it's coming! The baby's coming!"
Harry swore under his breath and ran faster. He finally stumbled into the hospital wing, yelling for help. Healers converged on him, taking Ron and a now unconscious Hermione away on stretchers. Harry collapsed into a chair, exhausted, his muscles on fire.
Night and a lull in the fighting fell upon the castle, and soon one day passed to the next. Harry had dozed off in his chair. Suddenly, a Healer shook him awake.
"Mr. Potter, we need to have a word with you about Miss Granger."
Not wanting to deal with this at all, especially in the middle of the night, Harry reluctantly followed the Healer to a stall with the curtains drawn. He could only guess that Hermione was behind it. The Healer turned to him.
"Medically, she is completely healthy. But, for reasons we cannot explain, we are losing her."
"She's DYING?" Harry gasped, horrified. No. No! He couldn't take another loss like this.
"We don't know why. She seems to have lost the will to live."
I know why, Harry thought to himself. Ron's death has broken her heart. He also suspected that Hermione's torture might have compelled the baby to come prematurely.
"We will have to move quickly if we are to save the baby," the Healer explained.
Harry slowly nodded his head. "Do whatever you have to do," he told them. "Try to save them both, if you can."
The Healers and several house-elf volunteers set to work. They insisted that Harry join them, but he resisted at first, and then eventually gave in. He had never been one to stay composed at the sight of blood, but the Healers explained that human contact would be helpful. Harry agreed and… this was Ron's child, and it was the last thing he could do for his dead friend. So, he sat by and watched the procedure unfold, holding Hermione's hand and looking grim.
As the contractions began, Hermione finally stirred. She seemed to register what was happening immediately.
"Is it a girl?" she whispered.
"We don't know," Harry told her, giving her hand a squeeze. "We'll see in a minute."
"It is a girl," the Healer announced, holding a squirming creature to the light. Unlike most babies when they are born, this one's eyes were wide open. She was staring at her mother, as if trying to memorize every detail of her face.
The look that flashed across Hermione's face was unrecognizable to Harry. It was look of pure adoration and unconditional love.
"Rose," she sighed, reaching out to brush her hand across the child's forehead before the Healers whisked her away.
Harry tried to manage a smile.
"You're a mother, Hermione. Your baby needs you. Hang on!"
But Hermione shook her head weakly. The look on her face had now changed to one of resignation. "I can't," she moaned. She turned to Harry, eyes pleading.
"Harry… I want you to promise me something."
"Anything," Harry said.
"Promise me you'll look after Rose. Take care…of my little girl. I want you to be her godfather. Please, promise me!"
"I- I promise," Harry vowed shakily.
Hermione smiled and sank back into the bed. The Healers soon returned with Rose in a little pink blanket, all fresh and clean. The odd look passed over Hermione once again, and it took all her strength to reach out her arms for her child. The Healers passed Rose to her and quickly left.
Harry figured it was best to leave mother and daughter alone for a moment, but he was still exhausted, so he silently opted for sleeping on the floor next to Hermione's cot. Rest refused to come, though, not even when Hermione began to sing a lullaby to Rose.
Go to sleep, my little one. The sun is gone and day is done. Sleep and remember my last lullaby, so I'll be with you when you dream.
The tune was endearing and haunting and Harry would have gone to sleep himself had he not heard what came next.
"Goodbye, my little Rosie. I love you. You be good and listen to your Uncle Harry, ok? I'm going to see your Daddy again. I know…I…will…"
Harry sat bolt upright and leaned over the bed. He fought the mad urge to shake his good friend. "Hermione? Hermione!" he cried, but it was too late. She was gone.
Harry stayed there for a moment. At last, he knew he had to leave, so he kissed Hermione's cold forehead and dragged himself out into the hall. Only there did he let the tears come. He didn't know if he was crying for his dead friends, or the new task that had been placed into his lap, or both. Soon, another wail could be heard, as his now-orphaned goddaughter joined in the chorus of grief.