Sorry this one took so long. I hope you guys are excited to get into Hermione's story. Personally I just began to get annoyed with Draco and I'm glad we're onto Hermione now. Enjoy and review!

Hermione

We went home later the next day. I walked through the hospital, covered in my blood. It was embarrassing that everyone would know I lost my baby, but that was the least of my worries. I wasn't thinking about what the man staring at me was thinking or the woman behind the desk. They could've stared all they liked. My secret was now open to the world, and it wasn't going to bother me. I didn't care what they thought of me. I was thinking about my relationship with Ron. Would this have ruined it? Would I have destroyed our relationship by losing the baby? It wasn't my fault. How could I have ruined it? If he wanted it to end, it certainly wasn't my fault. But it was.

I was unable to be healthy for our baby to live. It's my fault he didn't have proper conditions to grow in. I wasn't giving him what he needed. I didn't know that…but now I did. Now I've lost our baby and he isn't going to grow up. Little Oliver won't be born. I'd have to tell my parents. They were so excited to be grandparents…I'd have to tell Ginny and Harry. They were going to be the godparents. Now, because of me, they were robbed of these titles. I don't deserve to be a mother now.

We went home and I stayed silent, going to take a shower, to get rid of all this blood off me. Ron had begun to take the sheets off the bed as I walked into the bathroom. I spent at least 45 minutes under the steamy water, letting it wash away all of my worries. When I came out, Ron had changed the sheets on the bed, but he wasn't in our room. I changed into a makeshift running outfit and went downstairs.

"I'm going out for a while," I called, to wherever he was, going out the front door. I heard a faint 'Okay' as I walked out the door.

I ran around the neighborhood, trying to clear my mind. Even though my attention was brought to my breathing and footsteps as I ran, it was still there. Pounding in the back of my mind, the memory of my lost little boy. The thought stuck with me all through the run. Maybe Ron could help me figure something out. He always made situations better; he always had a lighthearted solution. What if he couldn't find the good in this, though? What if I was stuck with these awful thoughts for the rest of my life? I couldn't bare that. I didn't want to keep thinking this was my fault, but it was. I was the reason we lost our little Oliver.

After what felt like a good couple hours (when I checked the clock when I returned home it had only been a half hour or some), I headed home. Ron had started making dinner. The house smelled of something burnt. He wasn't the best cook, even he would openly agree to such statement. I hurried into the kitchen to see Ron trying to fry fish on the stove, but it going very wrong. He was panicking as I ran over to him to help with the fish. There was a fire in the pan and he was trying to fix it, but I knew he had no idea how. I had entered just in time. As I helped, I just assumed it was a grease fire.

"I'm sorry!" He said hurriedly. "I thought I had it all under control! I was trying to make a nice dinner and surprise you when you came back!"

"Ron, calm down. It'll be alright," I said as I helped him take care of the pan on fire, taking it out of his hands and sitting it onto the stove.

"Hermione, I didn't mean to do this. It was all an accident." I glanced over at him and he watched me nervously.

I just rolled my eyes and helped him take care of it all as he panicked. There wasn't much to it, but it was a skill Ron probably never learned growing up. Which would surprise me a little. Wouldn't have Mrs. Weasley taught her children kitchen safety? I'm sure with Fred and George around, it would've been a good thing to know. After only a few seconds the fire was gone. In the end, there was no damage. Only burnt fish and chunks left in the pan were the reminders of the incident. No one would've known we had a fire. We cleaned and opened windows to get the burnt fish smell out of the house. Once it was all done, everything was okay. Well, at least the previous situation was no longer an issue we had to deal with.

We ordered Chinese food that night. It was more comforting than Ron's burnt fish. Neither of us had to cook, and it was just the thing to eat that night. It was fattening, but not the bad kind. It just felt good to eat Chinese food in this moment. We ate on the couch, cuddled close to each other. I felt so happy in that moment, like nothing matter except Ron and me. This was true until I was rudely jolted out of my half-sleep daze. Ron had shaken me to keep me from falling asleep, which was very annoying. All I wanted was to fall asleep and forget about the day's happenings. I wanted to let go and have no worried at all. Ron had to wake me, though. He could've carried me, or I would've happily slept on the couch. I suppose he wasn't up for carrying me. I become dead weight when I sleep, or at least that's what Ron had told me. I could also have gotten a sore back from the couch. I suppose waking me was a good idea then.

After we cleaned up the rest of dinner, I headed up stairs and began to get ready for bed. I got into my most comfortable pajamas. This would help, maybe. Now I could go to sleep and I could forget everything that happened. When I laid down, the bed was warm and very inviting. Almost instantly, I fell asleep. The night was even free of dreams of Oliver growing, being born, being a full-grown, handsome, young man. Those dreams had plagued me the night before and many nights after. The pain from his loss haunting me and causing me to lose sleep every night. I didn't know how to handle any of this. Even when Ron was with me, wrapped around me, I was unable to have a dreamless sleep.

I didn't want to go to a healer. They would just try and put me on all kinds of potions and other kinds of things. I don't want that. Potions would cost too much, and I don't have the job to pay for it. Maybe I could get my old job back, now that I'm no longer pregnant. Would that assume I hurt the baby just to get my job back? I couldn't have those rumors going around, so I decided to stay away from it. I paid the bills with the couple hundred galleons I had saved in my bank account. Ron had his slow income. It was enough to get groceries for the next two weeks. We had to try our hardest to live a normal life, but everything was stripped away in only a few days. I had to go out and get a job. The only thing stopping me was the media. The media would follow me and attack me on this subject and I couldn't see this story all over the headlines. After I lost my job at the ministry, the papers and magazines each had at least one article on it all.

How would I ever get over the constant voice in my head saying I did it? How could I make it through the rest of my life like this? I just couldn't. I barely ate anymore. Barely even had sleep. I wanted to get away from it all. As if running from home, from Ron, from the memories would help. I went on runs. They didn't clear my mind very well. This was not the future we planned, nor wanted. We wanted a happy ending. Every story has its obstacles, but this was too big. We weren't supposed to lose Oliver. He was supposed to be born, to be held in my arms. I tried everything without a doctor's prescription that I could. I didn't turn to illegal substances, but I certainly used every tack-tic there was. Not even Ron's silly demeanor or stupid, yet funny jokes made me feel better. I didn't laugh at his jokes and his clumsiness or anything he did…nothing. There was nothing left that could help.

Or so I thought.