Warning: This chapter once again touches on the topic of miscarriage and grief.

Chapter 72

The week that followed was the worst one Ron had ever experienced. Never in his life had he felt so helpless, so unsure on what to say to make things better. Hermione had never reacted to something so strongly before. She'd never looked so defeated, so… he couldn't even find the words to describe what she was going through, but it hurt him. He wanted to cry with her, but the tears wouldn't come. They couldn't come. She needed him to be strong, or otherwise they'd both completely fall apart.

The silver lining was that it had all happened over the weekend. It meant that Hermione hadn't been forced to work and after Ron had gotten home he'd put his foot down and insisted she stay at home come Monday. He then spent the whole of Monday doing the household chores that they usually did together, while Hermione rested. He made her breakfast, lunch and dinner, while she sat rather listlessly in the living room, the TV on, her eyes never watching it.

He ate dinner alone that night, Hermione taking herself up to bed without a word.

Tuesday wasn't much better, but around midday, she came to him, tears running down her face and clutching her stomach.

"What?" Ron had asked, guiding her to the sofa. "What's happened?"

She'd just shook her head and cried silently. And Ron knew. Her body was dealing with it on its own without any intervention.

Any small amount of hope that he might have felt about the doctor being wrong left him in that moment. He'd clung to a very fine thread of hope that maybe it could still happen for them. He didn't understand Muggle technology all that well still, so maybe it wasn't as accurate as performing a spell that checked for a heartbeat.

But he hadn't dared to ask, and now he knew the answer. It hadn't been wrong.

It was hard enough for him to wait around for this to happen, but he could not imagine the pain and anguish Hermione was feeling, because it was happening to her. She was feeling it all, going through everything, while he was nothing but a bystander in the process.

As he held her against him, her whole body curled into him, shaking with silent sobs. Anger and guilt flowed through him. Anger at himself, because he had been so insistent on having a baby. She had always said that she wanted it, too — and he believed her because he knew she wouldn't do anything she didn't want to — but he knew that had he not made his intentions clear, she probably would have been happy to wait a few more years.

He'd been reckless, not really anticipating something like this happening to them. Everyone else made it look so easy, so he'd assumed that would be the case for them. He'd not considered her in the matter too much — just the end result.

A baby.

And then the guilt came, strong and hard. Guilt that he had talked her into this, guilt that he was unable to bear some of her pain. He tried, but he knew he couldn't even begin to understand just what she was feeling. It just wasn't possible.

But he didn't know how he was feeling either. The news had come as a shock, it had upset him, but the truth in the matter was that he hadn't known. He hadn't been walking around for a week with the knowledge that he was having a baby. He hadn't felt the elation of finally finding out after months of trying or the excitement of sharing the news. He'd gone to sleep every night without worrying about another small life, or thinking about it — what they would look like, would it be a boy or a girl, or what their name might be.

Hermione hadn't said this was what had happened to her — she hadn't talked much at all — but he could only assume that those thoughts had crossed her mind between finding out she was pregnant and now. It would cross anyone's mind in that situation.

He'd spent the last day and a bit going between wanting to know if this baby had been a boy or a girl and not wanting to know. If he found out, he knew it would break him. He knew that it would feel all the more real to him. On the other hand, he couldn't help but wonder if this would be their only chance. It had taken them until September for Hermione to even get pregnant. What if that had been it for them? What if they never got another chance? Now he'd never know if he might have had a son or a daughter.

It was too late to find out, anyway. He knew that.

Hermione didn't go to work on Wednesday or Thursday, but on Friday, she got up and got dressed. Ron found her in the kitchen with a coffee in hand.

To his surprise, she smiled at him. It wasn't her complete smile — there was still a lot of sadness beneath it — but she seemed more alert than he'd seen her in days.

He slid into the chair opposite her, watching her sceptically. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

She nodded, offering another smile. "Better," she said. "I feel… more myself. Kind of."

Ron stared at her for a long moment. "Are you sure you're up for going in today? I don't think anyone would mind if you stayed home for as long as you needed."

She shook her head, and he saw the stubbornness in it that he knew meant he wasn't going to win this battle.

"I have to," she said.

"You don't."

"If I stay away any longer, I'll have to tell people… Harry has already been around to see if I'm okay… I don't want to tell people. I'm… I'm not ready."

Ron looked at her with sympathy. She was right. Ron had gone to work Wednesday and Thursday, and Harry had inquired about Hermione on both days. It was unusual for her to stay at home when she was sick, usually just taking a potion to get herself by. But it was the only thing Ron could tell Harry without telling him the truth.

Harry was his best friend, but this was not something he felt he could tell him. Not when it was still so raw and painful. Harry didn't even know that they had been trying to have a baby. They'd always kept that to themselves.

"Take it easy today," was all he said.

She nodded. "The pain has eased a lot today, and… and the bleeding has mostly stopped as well. I know I don't have to go back, but I want to. I need the distraction."

"Do you still have the potion?" Ron asked. On Monday, he'd gone to the hospital and asked to speak to a Healer. They'd given him two potion bottles to take back to Hermione to help with everything.

"Yes, one whole bottle still."

"Take it with you," Ron insisted. "I'll come with you today — drop you off, and I'll pick you up, too. I'll come and see you throughout the day. And come and see me if you need to."

Hermione reached across the table for his hands. "I'm really sorry for everything," she said.

"Don't be sorry," Ron replied. "Merlin, Hermione, please don't think any of this is your fault. It's not. It's just… it is what it is. It's not your fault."

She smiled sadly. "I just wish I'd told you — that I hadn't been so keen to keep it from you. I just wanted…" Tears sprang to her eyes and Ron squeezed her hands.

"I know," he said. "I know." He looked at her sadly. "I just wish I could take some of it on for you. I wish I could —"

Hermione bowed her head and Ron didn't continue.

They just sat at the table, contemplative.

Forty minutes later they stood at the fireplace, ready to leave. Ron watched Hermione tentatively, searching for a sign that maybe she wasn't ready. But if she was feeling it, she wasn't showing it. Her expression was stoic, set, and he saw the determination on her face to get things back to normal.

"I'll wait for you there," he said. She nodded. He stepped into the fireplace and stated his intention to go to the Ministry.

He only had to wait a few seconds before Hermione appeared.

Ron placed an arm around her shoulders — under normal circumstances, something she wouldn't allow him to do, but she almost sunk against him, letting him guide her towards the lifts. They were halfway there when Harry approached them from behind.

"Hey, Hermione," he said brightly. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione turned around. For Ron, he'd become used to seeing her look like this. In his eyes, she was still beautiful, and strong, and incredible, but the shock on Harry's face was enough to remind him that she'd appear defeated and exhausted and sad to others. To anyone else, she still looked unwell.

"Hermione, are you sure you're well enough to come back?" Harry said, sounding concerned.

Hermione straightened at Harry's words and smiled. "Yes," she said. "I'm just… tired."

"It must have been some nasty illness to keep you away for this long," Harry commented, staring at her, apparently unconvinced by her affirmation of being well.

Hermione only smiled. Ron gripped her shoulder.

They all boarded one of the lifts together, and somehow, now that she was surrounded by people, Hermione seemed much better. The dark circles under her red and puffy eyes had miraculously subsided, and to anyone who didn't know, they wouldn't realise that she'd spent the last five days doing nothing much other than crying.

Maybe coming back was good for her. Ron loosened his hold on her as the lift came to a halt on their level.

"I'll walk you to your office," he said. She nodded.

"I'll see you in the office," Harry said to Ron, and began walking in the opposite direction.

For the short walk to Hermione's office, Ron found himself hoping that Malfoy wouldn't be there. He didn't need to see Hermione in this vulnerable state — he was worried that Malfoy would take advantage of it.

Malfoy was sitting at his desk, but he didn't even give them a glance as they entered.

Hermione stopped by her desk, turning to Ron and smiling gratefully at him. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"Don't mention it," Ron replied. He kissed her forehead. "I'll check in at lunch, but if you don't think you're up to it, send me a note. I'll take you home."

"I'm not an invalid," Hermione said, an attempt to make a joke.

"I know, but I'll still take you home." He kissed her cheek this time. "I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied. She smiled at him until he was out of the office and standing in the hall.

Ron was half tempted to go back to see if it was just an act, but decided against it. Returning after something like this would never be easy — there wasn't much more he could do to change that. Doing her normal thing was probably the best for her.

He wasn't surprised to find Harry waiting for him in the Auror office the moment he stepped in.

"Are you sure she's alright?" he asked Ron immediately. "She didn't look —"

For a moment, Ron was tempted to tell Harry about everything — about their nine months of trying to have a baby, about their struggles, and about losing the only one they had. But something stopped him. One day he'd tell his friend, but he wasn't quite ready yet to say it out loud.

"It's the best place for her," was all Ron said.

Harry frowned, looked as if he wanted to say more, but seemed to decide against it. Instead, he asked, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not really," Ron answered.

This time, Harry seemed unable to hold his tongue. "Is everything okay? You've seemed a little flat, too. Hermione's not seriously ill, is she? She's not… pregnant, is she?"

Ron stiffened at the question. But after a moment, he relaxed, and shook his head. "No, she's not."

"I just remember Fleur being quite unwell when she was —"

"She's not pregnant," Ron said, almost shouted. Harry's mouth fell open, but he said no more.

Ron sat at his desk and buried his face in his hands. He just wanted to see Hermione again; he wanted to make sure she was okay.

But instead, he was stuck at a stupid desk in a stupid job he no longer cared about.

…

The moment the clock hit midday — Ron's lunch break — he set his quill on the desk and stood up. Harry glanced up, a tentative look on his face. He'd not spoken much since Ron's outburst, to which Ron had not yet apologised for.

"I'm just going to check on Hermione," Ron mumbled.

"Alright," Harry said.

"I'm sorry about before," Ron added after a moment. "It's just… not a good time right now."

Harry nodded, but seemed to think better of asking any further questions. "I'll see you after lunch," was all he said.

Ron made his way down the corridor to Hermione's office. He was a fair few feet away when he heard something that caused him to walk faster.

"... this isn't good enough, Malfoy. In fact, this is probably the worst report I've ever read. How do you expect to win a case when you can't even put together a coherent sentence in front of the Wizengamot? They'll eat you and your client alive."

Ron reached the door to witness Hermione roughly shove a thick folder into Draco Malfoy's hands.

Usually, he'd be thrilled to see his wife standing up to Malfoy, but he didn't need to have witnessed the whole conversation to know that her outburst probably had nothing to do with the man's report.

"It's the exact same thing you approved last week," Malfoy snapped, looking mildly stunned. "Don't you remember?"

Hermione had returned to her desk and was appearing to give Malfoy the ice-cold treatment Ron was occasionally the victim of.

"Well, I've read over it again and it won't work. I won't approve it."

Malfoy gaped, and Ron made a move to intervene.

"Oh, so you take a holiday, expect me and the junior to hold this office for you, doing our work load as well as yours, and then come back and tell us everything we've done isn't good enough?"

"A holiday?" Hermione snapped. "You think I was on a holiday?"

"Who knows with you, Granger. Who the f —"

"Don't talk to her like that, Malfoy." Ron stood between them.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Shouldn't you be off stuffing your face with food, Weasley?" he said.

Ron was momentarily proud of himself for resisting the urge to smack the slimy asshole in the face.

Hermione was sitting at her desk, looking between the two of them. A second later, tears sprang to her eyes.

"Oh, go on and cry over it," Malfoy said. "I hurt your feelings, did I? Hermione Granger, Head of an office and can't even take some criticism from her assistants."

"Drop it," Ron said, gently taking Hermione's arm and guiding her up.

"I don't deserve to be spoken to like that," Malfoy persisted. "I don't care —"

"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy, do as you're told for once and shut the hell up." Ron guided Hermione from the office, tears streaming down her face.

As soon as they were out of sight, he gathered her against him and she sobbed. Ron just held her, unsure of what else to do.

She wasn't okay, he knew that now. This loss had affected her very deeply — deeper than maybe even she realised — and he felt completely helpless in making it easier for her.

After a long moment, as people began to pass them, turning to look curiously their way, Ron let her go. "Let's get you home," he said.

"Ron —"

"You are entitled to grieve," he said.

She wiped her eyes, but didn't protest.

Ron kissed the top of her head. He had absolutely no idea how to help her get through this. The best he could do was be there when she needed him.

Thank you all for your positive feedback on the previous chapter. I was definitely a little nervous about the response, but I'm glad you all found it believable!

I hope this chapter is the same.