Ron sat on the hospital bed hold his sobbing wife to his chest. Never before had he felt such despair. Hermione's sobs slowly quieted and she lay shaking in his arms. Ron couldn't help but feel guilty for what had happened. It wasn't his fault and he would never dare to blame her. Perhaps he could have convinced her to see the healer instead but really what could they have done to change it anyway?
Desperately searching, Ron thought back to their third year when Hermione and Harry had used the time turners. The hope that had sprung into his heart suddenly came crashing down as he remembered that all the time turners had been shattered at the battle in the department of mysteries in their fifth year. With the weight of realization threatening to crush him, Ron looked back to his wife who now lay silent and still against his constricted chest.
Her face was colorless and hollow, dried tears stained trails from her vacant eyes across her bloodless cheeks. The light that was so often present behind her brown eyes had disappeared, replaced by the dark cloud of sorrow.
Ron's heart shattered into more fragments as he looked down the bed at her limp body, the crisp white sheets unable to hide the curvature of her belly that not so long before had held joy and hope and life, but now was a cruel reminder of their loss.
Their son, a perfect lifeless doll with delicate brown curls, much like his mothers, had come too soon. His cord twisted like a constricting tentacle across his chest, his underdeveloped lungs unable to bear the strain. The labor had been long and terrifying. They had read all the books; well Hermione had read all the books and Ron had listened intently as she relayed all the information back to him. They taken all the steps, followed all the rules, and yet the unforeseen had struck as it so often did in their lives and Death had reached out his hand to snatch their child from their waiting arms.
Ron wrapped his arms still tighter around her collapsed chest trying not to imagine what it might have been like had he lost her too.
Her shoulders heaved against his as she sighed and another wave of sobs took over. Hermione pulled her knees to her chest and cradled them in her arms. Ron barely heard the words that spilled from her lips.
"I'm so sorry" Her head dropped as she spoke. "It's all my fault."
Ron looked up at this unable to comprehend what she had said.
"If I hadn't insisted…"
Ron grabbed Hermione's hands, clutched her closer, and quieted her.
"Hermione, it's not your fault, there's nothing anyone could have done" His voiced cracked as he spoke, his chest tightening around the unspoken words in throat.
She turned to him, her voice pleading, "But if I had learned more, or if we had been with a healer." Her words becoming frantic her gazed turned down the bed. "Hermione, stop!" Ron's voice was caring but firm, "You can't blame yourself, there's nothing we can do to make this right, but somehow we will find a way to be okay again."
With this, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his collarbone and he kissed her forehead. They lay back against the pillow of the bed both lost in their sorrow. Just as Ron was on the cusp of blissful sleep, he heard Hermione whisper as she squeezed his hand.
"I'm sorry my darling baby boy."