He remembered the first time she had a nightmare.
Ron was facing Hermione as they laid on the floor, he had been laying for a good fifteen minutes-Hermione longer- and his muscles were cramping. Protesting against the stiffness, of not moving. Harry making her favorite tea in the kitchen. Pu-erh tea (to improve her mental alertness and sharp thinking and to reduce high cholesterol, why Hermione drank the tea confused Harry immensely) -a pang of metal meeting metal the only noise that resonated throughout the flat. A flat that reminded him of the one they shared once. Hermione still had the onyx black overstuffed couch he bought on a whim, a white faux fur throw over the middle. Soft gray, pale rose and stubble grey pillows decorating it. Her favorite smoked walnut colored coffee table had a silver round pan tray on the edge, a vase of pink flowers blooming and three candles-large, medium, and small had pieces of woolen thread around it. They laid on top of a threaded white rug with speckles of grey. Her living room made Ron's inside warm and made his always tensed muscles relax. Ron laid on the rug, softening the hardwood floor against his side whilst he stared at the woman he loves.
His wedding band burned, a gentle sting. Precaution by ancient marriage charms in rushed marriages. Ron blinked at the tears quickly. He couldn't cry because then he would kiss Hermione and whisper the love still held for her. He couldn't. So he stared into her eyes. Her eyes were overwhelmingly clear, no amber or the mud brown he has come to know and love. They were the palest brown he hasn't seen in a while.
He remembered her screams and the tears.
"You've been gone for almost two months, love."
Silence.
Ron remembered, he had arrived back home from Auror training after a long day of studying dark runes and self-preservation fighting. He was sore and every muscle in him ached. He had walked in their flat in wizarding London he and Hermione shared. Hermione was a resident in her behavioral class in some medic university St. Mungo 's funded like money was spewing from their arses. He was tired and all Ron wanted was to see Hermione and hold her. He wanted to take her into their bedroom and throw her on their bed, watching her skin become stark against the white and grey duvet. Wanted to kiss the valley between her breast and kiss the mole under her left breast, run his hands on the expanse of her ribs and stomach and see her laugh and push his hands for making her tickle. Ron wanted to kiss all her white puckered scars she got in the Battle of Hogwarts, trace them and make up more happier, less deathlier stories on how she got them. He would say the small one by her bellybutton was from a botched surgery in the muggle hospitals and not from where a snatcher pressed the knife into her soft white belly because she didn't let them touch her. Ron just really wanted to relish Hermione's touch. Do their routine they have unconsciously done for years; after sitting on their bed, he would remove his boots and he would feel the bed dip. Hermione's cold hands (she had major iron deficiency issues, her body not absorbing iron properly so Ron always injected the iron dextran injections into her butt cheeks, laughing at her hisses. Kissing the back of her neck, relishing in her soft moans) would massage his shoulders and kiss the soft spot behind her ear. He had barely stepped out the Floo when he saw her in the corner of the room, darkness filling the room, but she was there holding her knees to her chest and sobs racking her frame.
She was always the strong one. When he and Harry wanted to stop she told them that we could all do it. That they could do it.
He hardly saw her cry unless she was really angry. Frustration racking her body and letting tears run down her cheeks.
He was at loss. So Ron sat next to her, not touching her but letting her know he was there. Her very pale eyes looking around the room, trying to see if the shadows were snatchers or Death Eaters.
Hermione now had the same look of utter fear and loss in her eyes and Ron still didn't know how to react.
"You got to talk to me. Please? Whatever is going on, I-we can help." Ron touched her jaw softly, tracing the patch of light colored freckles that decorated her skin. He loved that patch as much as he loved the thousands of patches on his chest and back.
"No. You can't." Hermione stood from her place, wincing at the pops her muscles did from protest, "I won't let this ruin me. Ron, please leave. I…I don't want you here to see me." Ron watched as Hermione went to her bedroom, shutting the door with a soft click.
"Don't take it personally, Ron." Harry placed his hand on his shoulder, meeting his eyes, Ron sighed.
Standing up, Ron collected his jacket, glancing at the bedroom door once more. Grabbing a handful of the green powder on the fireplace mantle, he turned his face slightly so Harry could hear him better.
"Hermione is going to push you away. She's going to trap herself away from you and she's going to throw herself into work. She's going to make a lame excuse on how this isn't going to work and she's going to shut you out. Do not let her Harry. If you do, we'll lose Hermione for good. Losing her, Harry…it's the second worse feeling in the world."
"What's the first?"
Ron turned at photo on top the mantle. He looked into the steel grey frame protecting the wizarding photograph of them. Ron was swirling her, waves were crashing into the shoreline and Hermione was wearing a beautiful blood red strapless summer dress. They were smiling.
"Watching them bury my brother."
"Ostium Sangsfero?"
"It is a complete plasma cells, blood, neurons, and basic DNA transplant when the fetus is still in the first trimester. The procedure has a 100% chance of taking full effect during the earlier onset of pregnancy, we do this during when surrogacy takes a wrong turn or to make adoption will seem I believe real. You are 8 weeks Ms. Granger. We can still do this procedure, although there may be a 65% chance of the stress of the constant spell and potions it may cause the fetus to have decals and go into distress. We, as your doctors need you to be sure."
Hermione looked at her best friend next to her, his hand squeezing hers tightly. The light shone off his glasses, causing the green in his eyes to be striking. The pristine clear white walls and cushion seats they sat on made their dark colored clothes seem out of place. Harry saw tears brimmed, threatening to fall and cascade down her cheeks.
He remembered the complete anger when Hermione told him. He wanted to storm to Malfoy Manor and hex Malfoy until Harry's arm was sore (it would take hours for him to tire out, months and years of constant training for his arm to be sore was a bloody joke). But Hermione's quietness had irked him, he was yelling and cursing violently and when he saw his best friend sitting on the couch, legs under her, she was absolutely quiet. Her eyes watched his every move, Harry knew she was studying him, predicting all his moves before he knew what was going to be his next move. So he did what she didn't expect. He sat next to her ad took her hand. Her jump made him chuckle and he caressed her palm gently. When she whispered the common semita infanilitatis escape from her lips, Harry watched in awe as a neutral beige smoke appear in front of him. Its edges crisp and soft to look like (some smoke that spells and potions created dark edges), watching a dark pink circle that pulsed, a muffled heartbeat that caused Harry to strain his ears to hear.
"I'm four in a half weeks in, five tomorrow. I don't know what to do. I'm lost, Harry."
He held her as she cried, racking his brain on how he could murder Draco and pull connections to make it seem like an accident. Harry knew she didn't love Malfoy. Malfoy was well Malfoy. Grief does the most unimaginable things to the human body. To the mind. It screwed you over making you believe objects were there, that the people you still love were just a touch away. Grief was a powerful emotion, it drove people to become alcoholics and hide it in solitude(Ron), made people lose themselves in sex and the orgasms that came it it(Blaise and Harry), throw others into work so they won't sleep and see blood and death behind their eyelids(George, Hermione, Luna, Draco, and Neville). Others deny (everyone). So Harry rubbed circles on her back as her watched the milk cream colored walls and the frames that decorated it. He played with her hair and cooed into her ear that all will become well.
The next morning, as he stood in her kitchen he wrote his department that he would be taking his vacation time. He needed to be with Hermione. She shouldn't be alone. So he called for the damn elf (it was Kreacher who despised him with a burning passion, so Harry kept him to make the elf's blood boil) to send him clothes. For a solid month in a half, he held her hair as she vomited the toast and tea. Hermione's body shaking and heaving as her magic aura was shifting to accommodate another body in her. Harry got in the tub with her and scrubbed her back and washed her hair as Hermione cried and shook her head in denial. Held her as she cried in his arms, sheets tangled across their limbs and the fireplace roared to help her keep warm stopping her medication for her iron so the baby wouldn't get a placental insufficiency. He carried her to her bedroom when she fell asleep on the couch.
Harry mentioned Dr. Calhoun in a fertility specialist in Romania over dinner of grilled cheese sandwich. Hermione had furrowed her brows but told Harry to get a portkey to visit the doctor. So they did. And she saw them after they mentioned their name. Hermione had sat through and listened about blood transplant. A very controversial topic that made her wince and squeeze Harry's hand harder.
"I'm...sure. The father... I'm sure"
"Okay. So," Dr. Marie Calhoun blotted down in the file of her patient. She knew who they were and how rich she'll become if she were to take the fact Hermione Granger-the Hermione Granger get a blood transplant for a fetus. But she prided herself in her patients' trust. Doctors who wanted a boost in their name for a few seconds of fame angered her. They were doctors for Merlin's sake. They had a duty, "who will the donor be?"
"I will be." Harry's deep voice cause Hermione to sharply look at him, she opened her mouth to say something but her throat was too parched. This was too much, she wasn't going to saddle him with this, "Before you say anything 'Mione, I'm doing this. I'm your best friend."
Hermione nodded.
"Alright. For the sake of time, this procedure takes about an hour-maybe longer. So I'll send in the nurse and you have to sign consent forms and what not."
"This potion is to relax your body and heart, this one to keep the baby's heart monitored. These two are mixed with Mr. Potter's blood and in turn they will slowly attack the baby's original DNA and plasma and start to replace it with their own DNA. The last one will replace the magic aura and will be the most painful for the baby. I will cast spells to finish the overall transplant."
Hermione laid on the slab of metal, Harry caressing her head as Dr. Calhoun described the potions that were going to be injected into her outstretched arm. Nodding, Hermione watched as the first richly colored red entered her, taking its effect on her immediately. She felt her heartbeat slow down, no longer rushing in her ears, the panic attack that was creating pressure on her chest slowly lifted away. The next one was a calming green vial that made her smile softly at Harry. The next two were a clear white with drops of red swirling-not fully mixing. The last one was a dark black with different colors shining brightly once in a while. First pink, then green, white, blue, red, then black. It burned when it entered with such intensity. It felt like when she accidently picked up the grill after cooking to clean it when she thought it cooled down. Her organs and lower back burned and all Hermione could do was blink as her heart did not race and not a single drop of sweat escaped her pore. Harry whispered stories of their time in Hogwarts and how Luna and Blaise were in the same room and he felt like someone had punched him when he saw the utter look of defeat and heartbreak on Blaise's face.
He distracted her and he was doing a good of a job. Her best friend was a bloody idiot.
"Something is not right."
Harry tense, if Hermione were to lose the baby, Hermione would throw herself into work and it will be the starvation and dehydration all over again.
"What do you mean?" Harry raised is voice a bit, fear racked his body has turned his head away from Hermione's tears and to see the best fetal surgeon look confusedly into her spell work almost as if she were confunded.
"I mean, Mr. Potter, that whoever the father of this baby is has very strong blood. It has traces of Veela and micro DNA chromosomes that Purebloods are the only ones that have it. This transplant will not work, Mr. Potter, because instead of your blood and plasma cells attacking the child's. The child's very own DNA is attacking and destroying yours."
Thank you all for still sticking to the story after a week of radio silence. Life has been hectic but it is the weekend! So enjoy this chapter and remember this story is more angst than romance.! Y!
semita infanilitatis:
infans-baby
fertilitatis-fertility
semita-track
ostium sangsfero:
fetal-Ostium
blood-sanguinem
transplant-TRANSFERO
