Ch 81: Learning the Hard Way – Ron's Experience
Ron had quickly moved from stunned to frantic when Hermione had walked out of the kitchen that morning. At first he had assumed she was teasing that she planned to leave without him, but then she didn't return, and he realized that he had clearly misread the situation. Assuring himself that she had gone to visit her parents, Ron had apparated to a spot in their garden, but he realized her car wasn't there. He didn't want to upset Michael and Jean, so he didn't go in to speak with them. Instead he headed home to wait, because surely she would only be gone for half an hour.
The half an hour had come and gone several times over. After trying unsuccessfully to reach her by phone or text multiple times, Ron had started to panic. He wasn't even sure exactly what it was that he was afraid of, but with each passing minute, the anxiety grew within him. He was still trying to piece together if she was hurt and needing assistance or if he had done something to make her upset.
While over the course of his life he was used to fucking up royally, he was rather certain that wasn't it this time. He had been trying so hard to be attentive and helpful, anticipating what she might need and getting it before she even realized she needed it. He had been nervous that he wouldn't know how to help, but when he suggested reading as a family her first night home she had mouthed "perfect" to him before she slipped into a peaceful sleep. That had assured him his instincts were on track and he had just tried to keep at it.
Admittedly, he was also grateful for an excuse to not let her out of his sight, as realizing how close he had come to losing her had shaken him to his very core. It had been surreal hearing it from Malfoy. But once he snapped out of the momentary fog that had descended on him the moment Malfoy's voice came from Hermione's cell phone he felt nothing but terror. He was terrified. Terrified of the unknown. Terrified of losing her. Terrified of what it would do to him. To Rose. To Hugo. Hell, even to Mrs. Carrington. And then he felt guilty – guilty that he was more worried about how it would impact him than any pain she might be in. It had taken him quite some time to even begin to process that this had all been caused by a baby. Their baby. That was now dead.
As the days had turned into weeks, he had continued to push the thought out of his mind. He had reached a point a few years earlier where he had realized fatherhood was probably not in the cards for him. It made him sad, but not empty. But then he blinked, and life surprised him, and he now had two amazing children that called him Dad. The joy and fulfillment from that one word from each of them was beyond anything he had ever imagined. Now to think that there could have been another child, but that there wouldn't be...well, it felt so abstract. It certainly would have rocked their world. He would have rolled with it and adapted, of course. But he'd barely gotten his sea legs with his new life as it was. And then he knew Hermione would not be ok with only one child as a second round, so to speak – so he knew there would have been a second as well. He would have loved it if it had all happened. But it hadn't. And realizing that he almost lost Hermione's life as a trade for a possible theoretical life – well, the decision was easy. He wasn't willing to take that risk. Not now. Not ever.
Since he'd brought her home from St. Mungo's he had been contemplating how to be sure they were never in this position again. They were rich as hell. They could both just quit their jobs and stay together all of the time. But he knew Hermione would never go for it. Maybe he could simply quit his jobs and be her assistant at the foundation or something. He could be part personal assistant, part private security detail. And he would keep her safe. Keep their family intact. And the bonus was that he'd get to spend every waking minute with the woman he loved. He wasn't sure she would find it as attractive of an idea as he did right now.
And then she had just walked out of the house without him. No. Worse than that. She had blatantly told him she didn't want him to come with her and THEN she walked out of the house alone and disappeared into the suburbs of muggle London. And he was absolutely losing his mind.
He tried pacing. Didn't help. He tried cleaning the house, but it was mostly clean as he'd been home for weeks with Hermione and had stayed on top of it to try and make her happy. He tried the muggle tele, but it just seemed to be a buzzing noise that was more annoying than distracting. He tried baking. It always seemed to help his mum. And then Hermione would come home to something smelling and tasting amazing. But then one lemon pound cake later he was still alone and miserable, but now he had to clean the kitchen again. He thought about digging a hole outside, as it seemed to help him before. But he wanted to stay in the house so he could know the second she came home.
Then finally, FINALLY his phoned buzzed with a text. Her phone had been off. He had been going insane and her phone had been off. How...how...how could she not know he would be a wreck? Then he remembered in a flash the day of Fi's funeral and how he had scooped up Hugo and taken off without so much as a wave and left his phone off the entire day. Had he put her through this much agony? Surely that was different. Neither of them had been in hospital, and Hermione was only a new acquaintance at that point. Not his spouse. No. She should have known. But even now that she knew, she still wasn't telling him where she was or when she was coming home. And the churning in his stomach was quickly moving from terror to ticked off. How could she knowingly do this to him?
He looked down at his phone, wondering what to do. Should he reply? Should he make her wait hours as well just to show her how awful it felt?
No, he sighed. Of course not. So he jotted off a quick text back and hit send. But there was no fucking way he could just sit idly in that house and wait. While extremely tempted by the firewhisky, he finally acknowledged that was a terrible idea. He was running his hands through his hair in aggravation when he glanced up to see a picture Hugo had drawn recently. He smiled at it – it was a sketch of Hugo and both of his new Grandfathers in his Dad's shed at The Burrow. When Ron had asked Hugo about it, he had simply said the assignment at school had been to draw one of your favorite places. As he looked at the picture, he began to wonder if it was the shed or the company.
He decided to leave a handwritten note for Hermione saying he had run an errand and to PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let him know when she got home as he was quite anxious. With that, he stepped into the floo, and headed to the Ministry to hopefully find the one person he hoped could help him.
Winding his way through the Ministry corridors, he had to duck a few times to avoid being hit by a paper airplane. But he eventually arrived at his destination and knocked gently on the door.
"Come in," the voice called.
As he stepped into the office, he heard the tone change to one of happy surprise. "Ron! You're the last person I expected to see come walking through that door. I have no idea what brought you to the Ministry today, but I am delighted to see you."
"Hi Dad," said Ron gently as he walked a little more into the office. Over the years his father had been asked to take various jobs of great responsibility and prestige by Kingsley. And he had always done what Kingsley needed him to do. But then as soon as each project or task had been accomplished, he had always made his way back to doing what he loved in his tiny, cramped office in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department.
"Everything alright? Is Hermione ok?"
"Oh, yeah, she's fine. Well, I think she's fine."
"Oh dear," said Arthur with a knowing glance. "Come on. Let's go," he said as he grabbed his cloak. "Dorris," he called to the secretary. "I am taking an early lunch today, and it may be a bit as we're going to eat out at one of the nearby muggle pubs. Could you please see if you could move that 1 pm meeting back to later in the afternoon? Thanks ever so much." And then he rushed Ron out of the office and down the hall before the startled witch had a chance to say a single word.
The father and son didn't talk as they left the Ministry and made their way to a pub a few blocks over. As they settled into a booth in the back corner and looked at the menus, Arthur let his excitement at being in a muggle establishment finally shine through.
"I do love coming here," he admitted. "There is that tele always showing that muggle football sport, and I love hearing all the different sounds coming out of their kitchen. Whirring machines, beeping machines, and something with a water sound too. Just love it," he mused. "But, I can tell it is not a pressing need for a muggle outing with your old man that brought you to my office today, is it, son?"
Ron looked down at his plate and shook his head. He was about to start trying to explain when the waitress came and took their orders, and he smiled as his father ordered those fizzy muggle soda drinks for both of them. He knew his father adored how he always got a few hiccoughs after his first sip of the syrupy sweet drink. Once the waitress was gone, Ron started again to try to explain the mysterious quandary he had found himself in.
"To be honest, I'm not totally sure what exactly happened, Dad," he said as he told him about Hermione walking out that morning. He explained everything – how attentive he'd been, how he'd handled everything at the house and how he'd offered to go with her on the drive before she told him he wasn't wanted and walked out. He was getting even more upset as he described how frantic he was trying to reach her all morning before he finally got a text from her saying she was fine, but not saying where she was, what she was doing or when she would be home. "And since I had a few hours before I need to get Hugo, I thought I would come find you, as you always seem to have some secret insight to these things."
Arthur nodded knowingly at him with sad eyes. "Well, that's unfortunately true. Though I must admit there are a lot of things I wish I hadn't had to learn the hard way." His smile returned as the waitress brought out their food and they began to tuck in.
"Did you know that your mother had two miscarriages?"
"What?" asked Ron in a shocked voice. "No. No, I had no idea. You'd never said anything."
"Well, one was before you were born, and the other you were too young to know what was going on. But, yes. We lost a baby between the twins and you. And then another after Ginny was born."
Ron just stared at his father, shocked at what he was hearing. "Did the older kids know?"
"No, no. We didn't say anything. With the one after the twins, well – it was a difficult time. She really struggled when we lost Gideon and Fabian. And she had been pregnant with the twins at that time. Between her grief and exhaustion, well as much as we joked about how hard they were when they were little boys, they were 100 times harder when they were infants. I still don't know how your mum didn't murder them before their first birthday. They never slept at the same time. We began to be convinced that there was only one person but that the soul switched off to be awake in a different body. Then later we decided it was just their early research on how to press our buttons. And, Merlin, were they good at it. It was tough. And in her grief caring for two, crying twin red headed boys….well, it made grieving Gideon and Fabian particularly hard. Sure enough, we found out she was expecting again when they were almost 6 months old. At first we were not thrilled. We were so tired, and your mum was still really struggling. But after the first healer appointment where they let you hear the heartbeat, well, we were of course in love immediately. They asked if we wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl, and your mum said she knew it was another Weasley boy so what was the point. But I said, 'Oh come on, Mollywobbles. Why not?' So, your mum agreed and they did it. It was a girl."
"A girl?" gasped Ron, his mind reeling and now seeing so many comments and moments from his childhood through a completely different lens.
"Yes, really," said Arthur dabbing his face with a napkin after a particularly messy bite of his fish sandwich. "It was as if the life had suddenly been breathed back into her. She started knitting pink jumpers and deciding on names and letting herself look at hair bows. The Molly I had known before she lost her brothers was back. And I was thrilled. I don't know if it was the idea of a new life, getting a chance to mother a baby girl, or the relief of not being twins again, but she was back. But then a few months later, I got an urgent message at work one day to meet her at St. Mungo's. She'd been nervous for a day or so before her regular visit with the healer and said something felt off. When she got there she learned that there was no heartbeat to be found. That's when we learned we'd lost our baby girl."
Arthur stared into space for a moment, his eyes momentarily glassy.
"What happened? If it's not too intrusive..." Ron asked.
"We never found out," Arthur said matter of factly. "The healer said that miscarriages are actually very common, but that many people don't talk about it. So many times it is before the third month. By then many people haven't even told anyone they were expecting. We knew that I suppose, but once she'd passed the 3 month mark we thought we were in the clear. But, I always just supposed it wasn't meant to be. Because if we'd had her, well, then we never would have had you. And I can say with great confidence, Ron, that without you, this world would have been be a very different and very dark place. And not only would I likely be dead, but I would never have been able to be the man I am today if I hadn't had you as a son."
Ron smiled uncomfortably at his dad, not knowing quite what to say.
"Then after Ginerva was born, your mum discovered she was pregnant again. But that pregnancy only lasted a few weeks. And, well, after seven babies ranging from Hogwarts to nappies, I don't think your mum was as upset at that. She hadn't really had time to adjust her thinking to it anyway, as we'd only known for a week or two. And we never knew if that baby were to be a boy or a girl. Somehow, it was easier to let that last one go. And then she was never pregnant again."
"I'm so sorry, Dad. I really had no idea."
"Thank you, Ron. As I know now that you really do know what it feels like. The myriad of emotions that come with that type of experience. It's not a simple thing, losing a pregnancy like that."
"No. It's not."
"And, I was lucky that your mum's life was never at risk like your Hermione's was. I know how difficult it was for me to watch your mum grieve so, especially that first time. I wanted to protect her. I tried to help with the older boys, buffer the twins and such. But apparently I was coddling her. Or at least that's what she said after about two months when she did just about the same thing Hermione did today. Except your mum apparated and didn't take the car."
"So, what happened?"
"Turns out we were hurting each other and not meaning to."
"How?"
"She felt I was smothering her – not letting her get back to her life that she was good at. Not letting her heal and be strong again. Not letting her be sad and grieve the daughter we had lost. I was always trying to cheer her up, help her out, make it seem like everything was fine and dandy, when of course it wasn't. I was so focused on protecting my wife that I completely missed out on what she really needed."
"Which was?"
"Time. Space. Forgiveness. Honesty. She had bonded with that little girl in a way I hadn't. So she grieved that loss even more. But she also felt guilty – like there was something she could have done to change it. And she needed me to let her be herself again – to be the blustery, loving, hard-headed powerful witch that I fell in love with. Not a breakable object to carry around with the utmost care."
"Oh," said Ron, awareness creeping in. "How long did it take to get back to where you were ok with each other again?"
"Well, when she left I was a mess, as I'm sure you understand all too well. And after some helpful conversations from some older wizards who were willing to have pity on me, we were able to work things out after a few tough days."
"Was it the same?"
"Relationships never stay the same, Ron. They move and flow and evolve over time. I don't have the same relationship with your mum now that I had five years ago, but that doesn't make it better or worse. Just different."
"But you were ok then?"
"Well," his dad said with a bit of a blush, "let's just say you were born about nine months later."
"Right," Ron said laughing, his ears betraying the awkwardness of the moment.
"Marriage is a commitment to each other. A commitment to learn and change with the other. To be what they need, not what you want to give them. This helped us learn that, even if it was a very painful lesson."
They sat quietly for a moment, Ron processing all that he had just learned. Finally, he said "I think I've been focused on keeping Hermione safe for me. The sight of her so close to death, well, I immediately knew I would do anything not to ever see that again." He paused, gathering his thoughts before continuing. "But I think it never occurred to me that keeping her safe would be hurtful to her. I kept thinking about how to care for her - to cook and clean and step and fetch. But...well...we haven't even talked about the baby. I don't even know how she's feeling about it. I don't know what she needs because it never occurred to me to ask. And that makes me feel like I'm worse than the dragon dung stuck to Charlie's boots."
"Now, now," chuckled Arthur. "Don't go that far. I've smelled those boots. You aren't quite that bad. We can't learn if we don't make mistakes. She's hurt you as well, not understanding WHY you were acting as you have been. Hermione and your mum, well, I see so many similarities. They are strong witches. And when witches like that truly trust their partner, they will be vulnerable enough to ask for, and accept, help. But what they want – and need – is to get back to being themselves, not to remain dependent. So, it is the difficult task of their wizards to help them back to their feet, help them dust off and start again, however hard it may be to watch them enter the fray again."
Ron sighed, understanding what was ahead and realizing how difficult it would be. His thoughts were interrupted by a buzzing mobile phone. Jumping to retrieve it from his pocket his dad asked, "Is that her?"
Ron glanced at the phone, slightly disappointed. "No, it's from Melissa Rupesmith. She wants to pick Hugo up from school, take him to the art center and keep him for supper. Something about needing help organizing the paints there or something," he muttered as he texted back that it would be fine.
"Well, that's great," said Arthur.
"It is?"
"Yes. Now you and Hermione can have some time to yourselves tonight to talk. Really talk. And don't worry about making a nice dinner or anything. The gift you need to give her is acknowledging that you don't know what she's going through and you don't know how to help her, but that you love her and want to be there for what she wants and needs."
Ron looked at his dad skeptically. "Easier said than done."
"Yes. It is," nodded Arthur. "You'll need your strength. Let's order us some pudding before I go back to work."
When Ron stepped back through the floo into his living room, he had hoped Hermione might have beat him home. But, she was still out, and his note was still on the counter. He tossed the note into the rubbish and headed out to the back yard. He thought he might as well rake the leaves up the muggle way. Needed to be done and he thought the manual labor may help clear his head a bit.
The repetitive motion of raking the dried, fallen leaves was soothing. He had quickly made four piles around the yard and scooped them up into the plastic rubbish bags. After hauling them all into the shed, he decided to go in to wash up and have some pumpkin juice. The work hadn't solved all of his problems, but it had gotten out some of that built up stress and tension he hadn't realized had settled in his body over the past few weeks. He gulped down his drink and took a quick shower. He had just come back down the stairs when he heard the front door open and Hermione walk in. He walked out to see her, but stopped in the door frame not really trusting himself to know what to do next.
He wanted to run up and hug her, possibly never let her go. But he wasn't sure she would welcome that at the moment. She was standing behind the large arm chair. He wasn't sure if it was on purpose, but it looked like she was using it as a shield between them. He went to speak, but she put her hand up like a stop sign, immediately halting his words.
"Let me say this first, ok?" she said in a nervous but steady voice as she focused her eyes on a photo of the four of them from Mallorca. "I really, really regret scaring you like that with my phone off. That was awful. I wasn't thinking clearly. And in my need to shut everything out, I behaved in a way that if the roles had been reversed would have made me both frightened and furious. So, I am very sorry for that."
He nodded, willing her to look him in the eye, but so far she managed to avoid looking at his face. So when she didn't see his nod, he added, "Thank you," in a quiet mumble.
They were both quiet for a moment before he finally asked, "Are you alright? Did today help you find whatever it was you needed?"
She thought for a moment. "Yes. It was good, actually. I ran into Melissa Rupesmith."
"Really? She texted a bit ago saying she wanted to pick up Hugo and keep him this evening. Something about needing help with alphabetizing paint or something. Didn't quite understand it, honestly."
Hermione chuckled. "Well, I would venture a guess it was a made-up reason. She and I had tea and talked for quite a while. Turns out she and her husband had a very similar experience with an ectopic pregnancy. Let's just say she really knew what I was struggling with."
"Always liked her, but sad to hear she had to go through this as well," Ron said, still uncomfortable with the distance and tension in the air between them. "I had a lunch with a wise elder myself today."
"You did?"
"Had lunch with my dad. And, he shared that my mum had two miscarriages I had never known about."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Apparently there was a baby girl between the twins and me that they lost at four months. Which is sad, but if she had lived, then I wouldn't have gotten to be born I suppose."
"Wow. And the second?"
"After Ginny. Dad said that one was easier on her, but that the first one was really tough. As he talked, he got me to see that maybe I wasn't exactly helping these past few weeks. Turns out us Weasley men handle these things rather similarly. Mom took off after a bit he had driven her so mad."
"I don't think it's just Weasley men. Or even wizards. Melissa said she checked into an inn for a few days. But then she realized a little more of why her husband was treating her as he was."
"Can I venture a guess that it was to keep her safe so he would never, ever have to lose her because he loved her more than life itself?"
"Something like that," she said, a softer look beginning to creep across her face. "And she hadn't understood that at all. She was trying to grieve what was lost – to process and understand it all. And she was trying to get back to being herself. And between the hormones and her body healing and not having a second alone to think, well, she just sort of lost it."
Ron looked at her carefully, trying to understand what of that had been Melissa's experience and what was Hermione's. Finally, he asked, "But she and her husband found their way back to each other?"
"They did," she nodded. "Time helped. So did listening to each other."
She finally looked up and caught his piercing stare, full of a swirl of emotions.
"I am so sorry, Hermione. I am sorry I presumed to know what you needed. I am sorry I haven't even asked you how you feel about the baby we lost. And I am sorry if I made you feel smothered or like I didn't think you were the strong, amazing woman you are. I was just so scared of losing you and panicked whenever you were out of sight."
"I'm sorry too," she sniffed. "I'm sorry I didn't speak up and tell you what I needed. I'm sorry I didn't stop to think of how terrifying this must have been for you. And I'm sorry I pushed you away."
They both stood there for a while, neither able to close the gulf between them.
He chuckled awkwardly. "I want to offer to make tea, but I don't want you to think it's because I don't think you can do it."
She smiled softly. "Tea would be lovely. I'm going to use the loo - by myself," she teased, "but I will meet you back here in a few minutes and take you up on that tea."
He smiled at the sparkle creeping back into her eyes, nodded and went to make tea.
When he brought the two mugs of tea into the living room, he was pleased she was sitting on the sofa and not the big arm chair. He sat next to her on the couch, but was careful not to touch her, wanting to let her bridge the gap when she was ready. He sipped at his tea and finally asked, "Was the rest of your day as helpful as your time with Melissa?"
Nodding, she said, "Yes. It was a good day. After seeing her I really spent the rest of the day alone. I went to a park for a while. It's a place where Dennis and I used to take the kids a lot when they were little. And then eventually I ended up at the cemetery for quite a while."
Ron looked up, surprised at this.
Feeling the need to explain she said, "I didn't necessarily intend to go there, but found myself there nonetheless. It was good somehow. Got some things out I needed to. And I felt much lighter when I left."
"I'm glad."
"How about you?"
"Well, I was a bit of wreck this morning, but then had lunch with my dad at a muggle pub. And then afterwards worked on the leaves."
"The muggle way?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah. But not because I thought you'd like it better like the pots this morning. I learned that lesson. I needed repetitive manual labor to calm down from everything, and we know it's the wrong time of year for me to dig a hole and pretend it will be a vegetable garden."
She laughed, reach out her hand to touch his lightly. "Oh Ron, I do love you."
When her hand grazed his, he grasped hers in his and held tight, running his thumb over her skin. "I love you too, Hermione. I am really sorry about buggering this all up."
Holding his hand tightly she added, "It took two of us to bugger it up. And I'm sorry too."
They sat quietly, holding hands, just enjoying being back to not fighting.
"How do we go forward from here?" he asked.
"Not sure," she admitted. "Maybe we just curl up here together."
"Brilliant idea," he said placing his tea on the side table. She followed suit, quickly snuggling up to Ron's chest and closing her eyes. He held her tightly, tracing patterns over her arms and back. They lay there together for a long time. He wondered if she had fallen asleep, but then he heard her voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you think we could talk about the baby?"
"Of course we can," he said gently. "I want to know how you're feeling about it. But, I have to confess I don't really know what I think."
She just listened to his heart beat for a while before answering. "If you can think of an emotion, I think I have felt it in the past few weeks," she admitted. "I mean, really – how could I not know that I was pregnant? Who does that? I was so damn bull headed that I kept pushing through being tired and nauseous and sore and then in great pain and I just kept going. And in my stubbornness I almost made our children lose their mum. Which they have both already been through! God, I don't want to do that to them. Ever. And maybe I couldn't have saved that baby. But what if I could have? What if I had been better at listening to my body or taking care of myself? I just wonder if it could have been different, you know?"
Ron could sense she just needed to get it all out, so he didn't speak when she stopped to collect her thoughts.
"And you have to admit our situation is far from normal. We have two children, but I have never been pregnant. Well – not until now I suppose. I had been fine with never being pregnant. I told you early on I didn't need to have a biological child. But we did have one, Ron. We had one and we never got to know who he or she was! There was a little person living in me. And he or she had a heartbeat. And maybe had your amazing hair and my love of books and your fabulous way of calming people down and my way of being curious about everything. And we won't ever get to know them. And they won't ever feel our love or hugs or hear us sing them lullabies. And you know – you would think it makes me sad. But I think I am really just royally pissed off about it. It's not fair! It's not fair that I had been fine with never having that experience. But then I got to be pregnant and didn't even know until it was over. While I didn't need to have a biological child – we had one. But I now I won't get to love that child. And I can't even figure out how to refer to it in my head, because IT just sounds so awful. What mum calls their child IT?"
"And then I was so broken. Not even talking about emotions…but I couldn't do anything alone. And I hated being so dependent. I was so focused on trying to get my independence back that I couldn't even be grateful for how loving and amazing you were being. Absolutely nothing was in my control. And I hated it. You were amazing. When I couldn't even go to the loo by myself you were right there, making me feel like I wasn't alone and I wasn't useless. But then when I started to be able to do things again, you hadn't realized it, but I never said anything. And you were still doing everything. Maybe things I couldn't have done – but somehow it was just this suffocating reminder of what I wasn't. What I seemingly couldn't be. And it made me feel so small and so angry. And that's not fair or right but it was how I felt anyway."
She was silent for a while, and Ron thought she was maybe done for a moment.
"I hated it too," he said quietly. "I was so scared to see you lifeless and pale and shaking and cold. It scared the shite out of me. And I was just looking at you and being so afraid of losing you when the healer told me about the baby. And I couldn't even process what he was saying. I felt so guilty because I didn't care that he was telling me my baby – my child, our child, had died. All I wanted was you to be ok. And I couldn't really feel bad about it because you were, and are, everything to me. But, then one of the kids – can't even remember which now, asked if it was a boy or a girl. And I hadn't even thought to ask. It made me feel so small. So unworthy to be a father. And then I had this picture of a little girl with crazy red curls who loved quidditch and books like Rose and art like Hugo - and I realized I won't ever get to know her. And I was so sad. But I pushed it away. Couldn't let myself think about it. So I did what I knew to do – stayed busy and kept you safe."
Hermione sighed, "When it died – no, UGH! I don't know how to grieve the life of an 'it.' It just seems so awful. I can't call my baby 'it.'" She wiped a tear from her eye with a frustrated swipe of her hand.
"So let's change that. Why don't we name our baby then?"
She stared at him a moment, finally saying, "Such a brilliantly simple suggestion. How had I missed that? Really? You'd be ok with that?" she said in such a vulnerable voice that it almost brought Ron to tears.
"Of course, Hermione. That was my child, too. I don't know how to do all of this, but I think giving our child a name – at least a way for us to talk about him or her – would help. And honestly, anything that would help I am in favor of."
"We could think of names that would work for both genders. Sort of a neutral name I suppose."
"Brilliant."
Eventually, Hermione asked, "What would we have done if we had discovered I was pregnant and hadn't lost the baby? Would we have been happy? Or would we have freaked out?"
"Both," he admitted with a sad chuckle. "We would have freaked out and gone through all the reasons why this hadn't been the plan. And then we would have fallen in love with him or her and never looked back. And then probably had a second so they wouldn't be so alone."
He felt her nod in agreement against his chest.
"Does this change what you want now? Do you want to try for more children now?" he asked hesitantly.
"I don't know," she confessed. "I am just confused over all of this. I don't know what to think."
"Exactly," he sighed. "I think I'd like to just stay curled up here with you safe in my arms and hide away from the world for a while."
"Could we?"
"Stay on the couch? Well, mostly. But I think Hugo still needs a bit of attention now and then."
"Maybe he could stay at the Potters' for a weekend. Or Mum and Dad could keep him. And we could just hide away somewhere – like a cottage or a hotel or something. No chores. No outings. No cooking. Just us being still."
"We can absolutely make that happen. Immediately if you want. Hell, Hermione. I would move heaven and earth right now if I thought it would help even the tiniest fraction of a bit."
She leaned up on her elbow so she could look in his eyes. "I know you would. And I love you for loving me that much." And with that she kissed him softly on his lips before she nuzzled back into his chest.
He was quite surprised when she kissed him, and then it was over before he had registered that it had started. So as he felt her relax into his chest, he tightened his arms around her, kissing her temple and nuzzling his nose against her forehead. "I love you, Hermione."
