This chapter once more addresses the topic of miscarriage and grief. Please proceed with caution.

Chapter 73

Ron watched Hermione from a distance — he watched her move about the house in complete silence, doing every chore by hand. When Ron stepped in to help, she would snap at him, tell him she was fine on her own, and tell him to go away.

Then she'd go back to doing the same thing. In silence.

She didn't cry much in the next week, but she completely shut Ron out. Dinners — all of which Hermione cooked the Muggle way — were eaten in near silence and then the evenings were very similar. Sometimes, she'd ask Ron a question, but it was never a meaningful question. It was never about what had happened, what he was thinking, or anything that was in any way related to how she might be feeling. The questions were only practical ones, like had he seen her wand or did he like the idea of them painting one of the walls in their bedroom a different colour.

She'd apparently decided that the best way to deal with the miscarriage was to not talk about it at all — the complete opposite philosophy to Ron's.

There were many times over the next week that Ron wished he had someone to talk to about what had happened. He was confused, hurt, and very worried about Hermione, but there was no one apart from Hermione and her parents who knew of the situation. Hermione refused to even acknowledge that it had happened, and in the one attempt Ron had made to get Robert and Jane involved, Hermione had kicked them out.

They'd come immediately — even travelling by Floo with Ron, considering the dire situation — but it had been a pointless trip. She had said unless they were here for a social visit, then they needed to leave. They'd left, both wearing very confused and stunned expressions.

Afterwards, she'd yelled at Ron for bringing them into it.

"They're worried about you, Hermione. Like I am," he'd said.

"Well, there's no need to worry, Ron. I've told you that. I'm fine. Really, I am."

But she was not fine. This behaviour, the grief she was experiencing, was not at all like Hermione. In fact, it was as far from the real Hermione as one could get. She hadn't even been like this after the war, after losing friends, or when she'd altered her parents' memories. She'd been open then, honest, and she'd talked to him about it.

Then again, this time was different, and Ron knew that. This was her child. And despite it not looking like one, nor not even knowing anything about it, Ron supposed that the loss for her was the greatest loss she'd ever experienced. She'd lost part of herself this time.

He watched her, but didn't dare approach her. She was scrubbing the kitchen benches in silence today. Day three of not saying any words to him at all.

…

On the fourth day of her not speaking to him, Ron knew he had to deal with it. There was no one but Hermione's parents around to give him advice, and all they had said was to just be there for her. But they were at a loss, too. Their daughter was never one to shut down her feelings and they'd never seen her do this before. He had wondered about bringing Harry and Ginny into it, but something always stopped him. He didn't think he was ready to tell them exactly what had happened.

Ron knew Hermione was hurting — he was too — but he had no idea why Hermione was refusing to talk about it. It was so unlike her, so strange, and it concerned him greatly.

He went to bed at his usual time, knowing she'd be up for hours still. He dozed in and out of sleep as he waited for her to come and join him, playing over in his mind what he was going to say to her. He was going to push the matter regardless of her resistance. She didn't want to talk about it because it hurt her too much — that was obvious. Maybe even a part of her blamed herself for what had happened — he'd heard that that was common.

But he knew one thing — no matter what she said, no matter how much she tried to assure him she was fine, he'd make her talk. And then he'd support her in getting through it.

It was one o'clock in the morning when she came to bed. Ron feigned sleep, but through half-closed eyes, he saw the glistening of tears on her face.

So she was still crying. That was something, at least. But for some reason she'd decided she no longer wanted Ron to see. Maybe she thought that he wanted her to have gotten over it by now — that she shouldn't be upset about it anymore. But that was far from the truth.

He waited for her to undress and climb into bed. She wouldn't be sleeping anymore than he would, but he'd never tried this approach before. He'd always just let her be, thinking she needed her space.

Giving her another moment to settle in, he reached out a hand, tentative at first, and brushed her shoulder. He felt her tense at his touch, so he retracted it. She'd never responded like that before. Even all those times they'd argued over the years and she'd been upset or furious with him, his touch had always relaxed her.

"Hermione?" he said gently.

No response came. He gave her more time than he usually would, but she didn't speak.

"Hermione, please talk to me. I want to help."

Another silence, this time shorter. "There's nothing to talk about," she said, her tone hard.

"There's a lot to talk about," Ron replied. "And if you talk about it, then it's going to get easier to deal with."

Hermione, who had her back to him, rolled over. Her face had dried and her eyes no longer showed the tears that had been there moments ago. He was used to her looking at him with love and affection, sometimes amusement, but he didn't think he could ever become accustomed to the look she gave him now.

Her eyes… they were filled with so much pain and guilt she was doing her best to disguise with anger.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said again.

Ron watched her for a moment, staring into her eyes, seeing if something would change. But she was determined — she no longer wanted to acknowledge what had happened. She just seemed to want to forget.

Ron didn't. He couldn't.

"Hermione," he whispered. "It was my baby, too."

He hadn't intended for it, but those words seemed to crack her hard resolve ever so slightly. He watched as her eyes softened, allowing him to see some of her pain.

Ron reached out again, a hand on her exposed shoulder. She was trembling with silent sobs, but her eyes and face didn't show it.

"I want to talk about it."

Then, like it had been what she needed to hear, she said, "I wanted it so much."

"Me too," Ron said, surprised at how easily he'd cracked her, considering how difficult it had been this past week to even get her to admit that she wasn't coping.

"I thought… I thought this was it," Hermione continued. "After so long, I thought it had finally happened. I was so happy, so elated, that I never stopped to think about anything that could or would go wrong. I just kept thinking of telling you, and how happy and excited you'd be, and us telling our families, and how thrilled they'd be…"

"It's not something you want to think about," Ron said quietly. "Hermione, you've shut me out for days now, and I just want to help. I want to know what's going through your head… I want us to deal with this together."

It was dark in their room, but even so, Ron could see the glint of her still dry eyes staring back at him.

"I thought this was it," she said, repeating her words from before.

"I know —"

"No, I mean… what if that was our only chance? It took us so long and when we finally got there, this happened. What if it doesn't happen again? What if we can't have another baby?"

Ron said nothing. He didn't want to tell her the same thoughts had crossed his mind more than once over the last two weeks, because that wasn't what she needed to hear. But did he believe differently to her? In comparison to some people, nine months was nothing. And it had happened for them in the end…

"I don't think it's our only chance," he eventually said.

"And if it is?" Hermione asked.

"It won't be," Ron repeated.

Hermione fell silent. He could sense her choosing her next words carefully, and he waited. She was talking to him now and that counted for a lot.

"And what if it really is, Ron? What then? What will happen?"

Ron frowned. "What do you mean 'what will happen?'"

"You want a baby so much, I know you do. I do, too, but… what if it's something we can't do? What does this mean for our relationship?"

"What does it mean for our —?" Ron had to resist the urge to laugh, because it wasn't the appropriate time. "Hermione… you're the smartest person I know, but that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say."

"I'm being serious, Ron," Hermione said, and she sounded strained. It had obviously been bothering her for some time now. "Things like this… they can cause problems. They can —"

"I want you," Ron said firmly. "I've always wanted you. I wanted to marry you, I wanted to live with you, and I want any children I may have to be with you. If it's not you, then I don't want it." He was surprised by how much he meant what he said. Hermione was his life — his everything — and he could not bear ever being without her again. He loved her more than life itself and to have her think otherwise hurt him.

"I just know how much you want this, Ron."

"Yeah, I do," Ron said. "I want us to have a baby very much. But when I see it in my head, I don't just picture me and a random baby. I picture us…"

He felt Hermione shift in the bed. She wasn't convinced.

"If it ever comes down to having to choose between you or children that only exist in my head, then I will choose you a million times over. Why would I give up someone so amazing in my life — someone who makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world — for a person or people I don't even know the name of? It makes no sense… Hermione, is this what's been bothering you?"

"No," Hermione said weakly. "No… not really. It's just… oh, Ron, I don't know what to do."

Ron pulled her towards him and she let him.

"What happened, it's affected me more than I ever thought something like this would. Just when they got the picture up on the screen and there was no sound — a sound I'd been hearing every day since I found out — it was the worst I'd ever felt in my life. I can't even describe it. It was like my heart had been shattered into a million pieces. That heartbeat, that sound, it had been something I'd become accustomed to, had grown to love. There was a person there — our person, the one we wanted so badly — and it broke me. It was the one thing that just…"

Ron squeezed her against him and she buried her face into his neck.

"I understand," he said soothingly.

"The pain," Hermione continued, "it was too much to handle. I'd never felt like that before. And you… you never cried. At least I've not seen you, and so I thought… if I just ignored it, then I'd get over it. That I'd be able to move on like you…"

"I haven't moved on," Ron said. "I've just… I've not really had anyone to talk to about it. And… it's different for me. I didn't know about the baby."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said, "I'm sorry I've not really considered you in this. Of course you're hurting, too… of course you want to talk about it —"

"It's okay," Ron whispered. "It's harder for you. I understand."

"It doesn't make your feelings any less important…"

"It's okay," Ron said again. "I want to help you deal with this."

"I… don't know how," Hermione confessed after a moment. "I don't know where to start, how to… how to get past this."

"Time," Ron said. "It just takes time. And talking about it. Not shutting your husband out when all he wants to do is help."

Hermione sucked in a deep breath. Ron didn't let her go.

"It was a boy, Ron." Her voice was muffled, her mouth pressed against him. But he heard.

"You found out?" he said. He wasn't angry or upset at her for telling him. Just like he'd made the decision not to know, maybe she'd had to know — to help her.

"I needed to," she whispered.

"That's okay."

They laid there after that, Hermione in his arms. They didn't speak, Ron's mind trying to process this new information. They'd almost had a son. He couldn't help it — his mind went to the place he hadn't wanted it to go; but surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. It was a good place, a happy place, and he felt good for knowing. And he realised that his mind had already subconsciously formed an image of the baby, which he was surprised to learn he'd always envisioned a girl.

After a while, he felt Hermione's deep, even breathing against him. She was asleep, she was peaceful…

He buried his face against her hair and closed his own eyes. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much. And we'll get through this."

As he drifted into sleep himself — the most relaxed he'd felt in weeks — there was one last thought that came to him. Something positive, something he'd not put much thought into until now.

There wasn't anything wrong with either of them — Hermione could get pregnant. That just meant they had to wait.

It meant that one day, it would happen for them. Today just wasn't it.

Sorry, I'm a day late with posting this chapter. I've come down with a (non-covid) virus and it's making me bleh. I was just too tired to post yesterday! But I'm back and I am here with the next chapter!