Chapter Ten, Air

The spelled department store façade seemed to mock her. The dummy in the store window leered at her. She hadn't said a word since they'd left her house and made their way back to St. Mungo's. Draco had left her to her silence, a gesture which she'd appreciated. She was anxious, her stomach coiling itself into a hard knot. She didn't know what Harry and Ginny were going to say. She'd spent so long in hiding, abandoning her other life for one of loneliness and pain, leaving her family and friends to go on living without her.

Inwardly she cringed at her selfish actions, as she could see it now. Shame made its home next to guilt and grief. As she'd left her parents' house for the first time in weeks, she hadn't missed her mother's surprised expression which had been quickly covered up with an encouraging smile. Hermione had blinked at the sunlight filtering through the clouds and turned her face up to the warmth, hoping it would break through the ice that had surrounded her.

She jumped at Draco's light touch to her arm, bringing her back to the present and what she was about to face. "You ready?" his voice was surprisingly gentle, but did not hold any of the sympathy that she'd become resigned to since the accident.

She glanced at him, taking in his determined look, his own tired eyes and the scar that incised the edge of his eyebrow. "Why are you doing this?" The words were out of her mouth before she had time to control the curiosity. It seemed that her normal filters were down, her thoughts and feelings coming out without check; her own surroundings hitting her with no barrier, raw data just spilling into her.

He stood almost a head taller than her, a fact that she couldn't help but notice when he turned toward her, bending his head so he could keep his voice low, his eyes flashing silver from the sun. "Because Jack needs you and you haven't been there for him."

The harsh words cut clear through her and she had to blink back tears that she refused to shed in front of him. Did he have to be deliberately cruel? She took a step back so she didn't feel shadowed, intimidated by his height.

"Why are you doing this? What makes you think you could censure me? What are you to us?" Now that her silence had been broken, she couldn't seem to stop, her anger pulsing through her, giving her the strength to fight back. "You're a stranger, Draco, and someone who's been more enemy than friend in my life. What are you getting out of this?" Because Draco Malfoy could never just be "nice"; there had to be something in it for him.

His mouth tightened and a hard edge came into his eyes. He shook his head at her, almost in disgust, and entered St. Mungo's, leaving Hermione staring at his back. She hurried after him, ready to scald him with just what she thought of him when the hustle and bustle of the reception room came into view and two dear familiar faces turned towards her.

The anger that had carried her out of her house and again into St. Mungo's left her and she was swept up again in sadness and in anxiety—anxiety at facing the future, at facing her son. Ginny opened her arms and Hermione found her way to them, taking comfort in simple human touch. Harry put his hand on her shoulder, lending his support.

After a few moments, Hermione leaned back and wiped the tears that had fallen—Someday, these will stop—and met her family's concerned eyes for the first time in weeks. Ginny smiled in understanding while Harry just looked at her, smiles seeming to be a little hard for the man at the moment.

"Is he okay?" Hermione asked, feeling like it was safe now, having seen their faces and the lack of utter distress in their faces.

Ginny nodded. "He's sleeping now. The Healer was able to bring the fever down and the tremors have stopped. We should be able to take him home after the Healer gives us follow up potions."

Hermione was struck by the fact that Ginny knew more about her son then she did and again that feeling of shame cloaked itself around her. She shut her eyes for a long moment, trying to fight against it, trying to remind herself that she was here now, she was going to be the baby's mother now. As she opened her eyes, she met Ginny's blue eyes, eyes so much like her brothers', like Hermione's Ron, like Hermione's son. "Can we see him?"

Ginny's gaze lightened and her smile widened. Hermione realized how much Ginny had been hoping that Hermione was going to say that, that she was actually here and not lost, that she was ready to face life again. Glancing from Ginny to Harry, Hermione took in the bags underneath their own eyes, the lines of worry and concern that now etched their foreheads and she felt overwhelmed by how much they cared and how much they must've taken on while she wasted away. Tears came again and she hugged Ginny and then Harry. They wordlessly accepted her gratitude.

Breaking away, Harry took Hermione's arm and led her towards the lift. "He's upstairs."

Her footsteps faltered as she remembered Draco and looked around the reception, not seeing his blond hair anywhere. "Draco…" she trailed off, not even sure what question she was trying to frame.

Harry followed her look. "Draco must have gone back to work." There was something in his voice that caught Hermione's attention and she looked at him. He shrugged, pushed his glasses up his nose with his other hand and turned back towards the lift.

The ride up was enough to give Hermione time to fill up with nerves at this long overdue meeting. The last time she'd really held her boy, really seen him was in this very place. She recalled the tide of sorrow that had swept through her as she'd traced his small nose, fluffed the red tufts of hair he had. She'd been drowning since then and she felt that only now had she been able to come up for a breath of air. She was afraid that seeing him again, this so n of hers, would break that dam once more. But she also knew she couldn't keep ignoring him. It wasn't in her nature to drop responsibilities, to leave those she loved to fend for themselves. Because she did love him, this small person, a new life that had barely begun but had already suffered so much tragedy.

Ginny and Harry led Hermione to a room filled with other babies under hospital care, their cribs lined up in two neat rows, pink and blue blankets in abundance, the smell of baby powder and child mixed in with gurgles and crying.

A trainee Healer greeted them at the door and smiled when they asked about Jack Weasley. Hermione heart squeezed at the name, another thing she'd failed to do that her family had had to pick up. Ginny and Harry, without saying a word, hung back outside the corridor and let Hermione enter the Pediatrics Ward alone.

The Healer brought her to her baby's crib. She found that her arms had wrapped around her stomach, where this small body had lived for months. He now lay under a soft blue blanket, arms out next to his head, his tiny face turned to the side as he slept a seemingly dreamless sleep. She stood there, watching him as his little chest rose and fell with each breath.

And quite naturally, she felt her lips turn up in a smile. Surprised, she brought a hand up to feel her face. Then, on impulse, she brought her fingers down to caress Jack's soft head, loving the feel of downy hair and felt her smile widen. And this time, when tears came to her eyes, she let them fall.

Because they were tears of happiness.

*.*

On the other side of the glassed wall, Harry hugged his wife to his side as she sobbed into a handkerchief. He could feel tears welling up in his own eyes as he watched his best friend and her son. There had been a point in these past weeks when he'd felt that he'd not only lost one best friend but both of them. Now…now he let himself hope.

He felt rather than saw Draco come up next to him. The other man didn't say anything, just silently watched the scene before them. As Harry watched Hermione touch her son for the first time since that night, he only had one thing to say to Draco, something he couldn't hold back even if he'd wanted to. The words came out rough but were sincere.

"Thank you."

Draco froze, surprised at how those two simple words affected him. He nodded and, after a long glance at the other two survivors of that life-changing night, he disappeared down the corridor.

*.*

As soon as the Healer gave the green light for them to take Jack home, Hermione had been the one to pick up the child and cradle him close to her, determined to start being the mother she knew she had always been meant to be. Jack's blue eyes opened from his peaceful sleep and he stared at her, as if trying to recall where he'd seen her face.

Her heart twisted with some negative emotion but she shrugged it off, not willing to have that dark specter that had haunted her since the accident come between her and her son again. She felt the pressure lift. The relief allowed the welcoming smile she had denied Jack when he first took a breath. The baby's toothless mouth opened and he gurgled back in appreciation. Hermione was unable to hold back her laughter at his charm.

Ginny and Harry helped them home, loaded with follow up potions from the Healer and saw to it that Jack was safely ensconced in his crib and that Hermione was still with them and not lost in a tragic world of grief before they took their own leave. They had put their lives on hold while they'd taken over the care of Jack and Hermione these past few weeks and it was time they picked them back up.

Hermione hugged them both tight, still really unable to put in words how much she truly valued their help but they understood all the same. There were promises of returning tomorrow and continuing to be there for her until Hermione was finally able to get them out the door, wanting them to see that she was capable now, even though she had doubts herself.

As the door shut, her mother came from the back of the house, clucking her tongue at Hermione. Jean took over, as she was wont to do in times of stress and worry, and brought Jack and Hermione to his room so he could be put to bed. When they entered the room, Hermione noticed that the window had been replaced and no trace of a grief-crazed woman had been left. She was grateful for this because she didn't want her boy's life marred by her mistakes.

Jean settled Hermione in a chair near Jack's crib so that she could watch over him and refused to let her move from that spot. Hermione acquiesced simply because she found that she didn't have the strength to move from her seat now that the immediate crisis of Jack's health was over.

She sat there for hours, watching Jack explore the ceiling and the sides of his crib with curious eyes and hands, sometimes making nonsensical comments to Hermione about what he was observing. She smiled or responded with a simple murmur of acknowledgement which seemed to satisfy him until he fell asleep. Her mother came back with dinner, stood over her while she ate and then disappeared to finish up her household chores. Hermione returned to gazing at Jack, who was now sleeping.

It was going to be hard, living in a world without Ron, but, as she watched the sleeping form of her baby, as her eyes memorized the small button nose and the perfect little mouth, she thought that maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to. At least, she'd do it for him.

*.*

She woke up with a start. Her arm was inside Jack's crib, one hand loosely over his small foot, her head resting lightly against the back of her chair. Disoriented, she blinked in the dim lighting of the room and glanced at Jack. He'd woken up a couple of times in the night and she'd fed him or changed him, then rocked him back to sleep. Now it seemed that it was near sunrise, the sky outside looking lighter than it had the last time she'd had to get up.

But that wasn't what had woken her up. She'd woken up with a need to speak to Ron. She held back the tears that wanted to fall because he wasn't there to be spoken to. She sat for long moments, reacquainting herself with her life and the changes that had been introduced that horrible night; the very bad and the very good that had come out of it.

She heard a noise come from the kitchen and realized that her mom was probably awake now. On the tail end of that thought came another, a sudden urge that she couldn't ignore. Making sure that Jack was still sleeping, she wrapped the warm afghan she'd used during the night and padded down the corridor to the kitchen where her mom stood at the stove, making a pot of tea.

Jean turned as Hermione entered and smiled gently at her, pulling out another cup from the cupboard. Hermione sat at the table and gratefully took the steaming teacup from her. They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes, Jean letting Hermione gather her thoughts.

"I want to see Ron's grave," Hermione began, her voice steady though a bit hoarse, "And I'd like to go now, if you wouldn't mind keeping an eye on Jack." Though you've been doing that already, she silently added to herself, one of the many pinpricks Hermione kept hurting herself with.

Her mother reached across to take her hand, a gesture as familiar as the worn table underneath her fingers. Her mother had always been there for her, even when Jean hadn't known that she had a daughter and was living an entirely different life in a faraway land. Hermione had known she could always count on her mother. Warm brown eyes, so like her own, smiled in understanding. "Of course, dear. You need to do this. Now's just a good time as any," she hesitated, "but are you sure you want to go alone?"

Hermione understood her mother's concern. She nodded; this was something she needed to do by herself. Her mother pursed her lips, worry clouding her eyes as she looked at her broken daughter. After a moment, Jean nodded back.

Before Hermione lost her nerve or collapsed under the heavy weight of "never-could-be's", she grabbed a warm jacket for the early morning chill and Disapparated out of the house and to the edge of the cemetery where Ron had been buried. A cemetery she had only been familiar with previously because of the casualties from the War: Fred, Remus, Tonks and too many others.

She stumbled as she made her way to the Weasley family plot, indecision streaking through her: her mind determined to make this journey, to say her proper good-byes; her heart still crying and searching for the broken pieces to mend together, unwilling to let him go. She stood still a moment, her face turned up to the sky, willing the weak morning sun to find her, the lively spring air playing with the tangled strands of her hair.

When she felt a little more calm, she started walking again. She watched the ground as it passed before her, not thinking about her destination, only concentrating on each step it took to move forward. Finally, her eyes found a patch of ground still just plain dirt, too new to have any grass grown on it. Flowers in all different shades and sizes crowded around the headstone, some in vases, some just laid against the stone.

Ronald Bilius Weasley

War Hero, Courageous Auror
Beloved Friend, Son, Brother, Husband
And Father

Hermione sank to the ground next to the small memorial, her hand coming out to trace the last word, her other hand fisted against her mouth as her face became wet with tangible sorrow. Father. That someone had thought to put that there…

Her eyes shut in pain and she bowed her head, hands covering her face as she wept, a keening cry escaping from her chest and clenched teeth. She rocked herself back and forth, tears and sounds not enough to express the depth of her hurt; she wanted out somehow, escape, but at the same time knowing that retreat wasn't possible.

It was some time before she was able to choke back her sobs and wipe her face dry. Her eyes felt swollen and puffy, her nose irritated and still she sat on the ground, not willing to leave just yet. Turning, she made a space for herself near the headstone, facing the rest of the cemetery and just looked out and concentrated on breathing, on finding that small will to continue that had seeded with her connection to Jack.

And she found that it wasn't that hard. In those last tears she'd shed, it'd been like a cleansing, an acknowledging of what was and what needed to be. Because as she sat there near her dead husband's grave, a feeling of peace crept into her. She felt Ron's presence, that he was there somehow, helping her. He wanted her there, alive and with their son. He wanted that she be able to see their baby grow up, to teach him her smarts and learn some tricks from his uncles. He wanted a part of him to live on and for Hermione to nurture the embodiment of their love.

Sitting there, surrounded by the evidence of others' love for Ron, feeling a small measure of relief to her anguished soul, she found herself inexplicably content and felt her lips curve in a smile.

Harry found her there later, when the sun was fully up and the clouds had cleared out. She hadn't moved from her spot and she saw him when he appeared near a tree some meters away. He steadily approached Ron's grave, his footsteps slowing as he caught sight of her sitting there. Hesitantly he smiled in greeting, not sure of the reception he would receive, if it would be Hermione or the empty shell he'd been looking after for some time. When she smiled back, her eyes welcoming, he couldn't help the split-second surprise that entered his green gaze.

She waited for him to reach her before she held out her hands for him to help her up. As she stood, she stepped forward and embraced him. After a moment, his own arms came up around her, his cheek resting against her hair and she felt him smile. She knew why. He was smiling because he was happy; happy that she had decided to stay with them, with Jack.