Trigger warning: mentions of miscarriage
a/n: Thanks for everyone reading! Shout out to poka and Time Keeper for the continued support and lovely reviews on the previous chapter. And yes, poka, Shiloh is a special name for me and she takes several forms in my fics and writing to honor a companion spirit that means the world to me.
Prompt: First Major Argument
Chapter 9: Aftermath
Hermione heard shouting. She tried to open her eyes. If she was going to die, she wanted to see it coming. Bellatrix was arguing with her sister. Hermione didn't know how much time had passed since her world shattered. Minutes, hours, an eternity? She felt the blood pooling around her. It reported the truth. It might have been a dream, the dream knew the truth. The baby was gone.
"Don't you touch her!" Harry's voice echoed off the walls.
Hermione's eyes went wide at the sound. It had been primal. He was standing in the entry way, his wand up and people were thrown back. All Hermione could see were arms and legs flailing for purchase trying to break their fall. She heard the high pitched sound of glass shattering. The windows blew out and broken crystal rained down on her. Only for a few seconds before Harry was at her side, putting a shield above them to protect her from the chandelier as it fell and landed next to them with a violent thud. She felt his body tremble with rage against her.
He was shouting something to someone. She couldn't hear words. He was lifting her up. She caught a sight of Ron summoning all the wands that lay scattered about to him. Their owners struggling to recover from Harry's blasting curse. She had felt the power wash over her. There was no way everyone survived the force. Then they were turning on the spot, away from the nightmare.
~~/~~
There was so much blood. As the sea washed up over Hermione, it turned the white foam a horrifying shade of pink. He could tell it wasn't just from the cuts she got from the chandelier crystal exploding on top of her. There was blood seeping from her pants. Bellatrix had used the cruciatus curse on her at least ten times. The torture wouldn't have made her bleed. But it would have damaged the baby. She'd been barely unconscious. Lying in the old manor, a pool of blood spreading slowly. Harry had never been so angry and afraid in his life. The magic had just burst from him in response. The vision of himself blasting the Malfoys and the snatchers back was like watching a movie. Except it was filmed from his perspective. The chandelier hadn't been a consideration. He had nearly injured further due to his loss of control
"Is she okay?"
Harry couldn't speak, he just shook his head, Cradling her, he stood and turned around to see where Ron had taken them. Bill and Fleur were already running toward them. Luna was checking on the others who were sitting in disbelief on the beach. Dobby was bouncing between the survivors, helping where he could. Everyone was safe. It gave Harry permission to concentrate on Hermione.
"Inside. Get 'er inside," Fleur was saying urgently and running on ahead of them. Leading the way to a small bedroom.
"There's a lot of blood," he warned, seeing the pristinely white bedding.
Fleur threw up her hands, and started sorting through potion bottles. "None of zit matters. Set 'er down. What has happened?"
Harry did as he was told. The blood soaked in to the delicate lace almost immediately. She was still actively bleeding. He swallowed hard and looked back at Ron. His friend stepped forward. "Cruciatus curse," Ron supplied for Harry who couldn't stay the words.
"That wouldn't cause zese injuries," Fleur observed, started pouring potions into Hermione's mouth.
"She was pregnant," Harry whispered. It wasn't how he wanted to tell Ron. When he rejoined them and learned of their new relationship, he took it better than either he or Hermione had thought possible. They were going to tell him. They were still trying to figure out what they were going to do about the pregnancy. She wasn't showing yet. There was time. He had thought there was time. To his credit, Ron put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder at the revelation.
"Harry. I'm sorry. This is bad. She's lost too much blood."
Fleur's words gripped his heart and squeezed it. What did she mean? Was Hermione dying? "Save her. You have to save her," he pleaded desperately.
The healer looked up and then realized her mistake. "Hermione will recover. Ze baby is gone. I'm sorry. Give me some time to treat ze blood loss."
Ron pulled on his arm, "Come on. She's in good hands. Fleur has been healing everyone in the Order. She'll take good care of her."
Harry didn't want to leave Hermione's side. She was so pale. So still. "You can help her?"
Leaning over the bed, Fleur patted his cheek. "I can help 'er. She will be okay. Trust me. I need to concentrate and can't if you're in here."
Her words finally penetrated the fog that was settled in his head. Hermione was going to be okay. They lost the baby, but she was going to be okay. It was a strange dichotomy of relief and sorrow. He needed to do something. "Griphook. Mister Ollivander. I need to talk to them both," he told Ron.
~~/~~
Hermione sat on a comfortable chair on the covered porch overlooking the sea. Everything hurt. She was forced to admit that physically she wasn't great either. Fleur had told her what she already knew. Still. Hearing it out loud made it real. Her hands rested on her stomach where the baby should have been. All their talk about how irresponsible it was to have a baby in their situation came into sharp relief. They thought they could beat the odds. The odds sure had something to say about it. She looked back at the house. Harry was going on, getting information on the hallows and the horcruxes. She wanted to care. She gave herself permission not to. At least not yet.
Voices in the kitchen connected to the porch told her she might have to rescind that permission sooner than she thought. The screen door creaked. She didn't turn around. She'd keep every second she was afforded.
"Hey," Harry said behind her.
His voice brought new tears. She thought she didn't have any tears left to give. "Hey," her voice cracked. She still didn't turn to look at him. Her brain told her the loss wasn't her fault. Her heart told her that she should have done more, gave more to protect their child.
He pulled up a chair in front of her and sat. Harry leaned forward, took both of her hands in his and waited for her to look at him.
Stealing herself, she looked up. Saw those eyes. Lily's eyes. Harry's eyes. Shiloh's eyes. The loss hit her anew and she broke down. She had no control. Her taxed muscles protested. There was nothing to be done. Like a different kind of curse. Harry did his best to comfort her. Her wound was too fresh, too deep to be soothed. He seemed to understand. Of course he understood. Finally, exhaustion beat down the sorrow. He had just let her cry. Told her he was there. Told her they'd get through it together. She believed him. Even if getting through it though felt like an impossible task. It wasn't the first impossible task they'd overcome. She leaned back. Emotionally spent. Her mind took over and it was a relief to think and not feel. "There's a horcrux in Gringotts."
"You don't need to worry about that," Harry started.
Hermione's back went up. "What do you mean I don't need to worry about that? Have you discovered a back door to the Lestrange family vault?"
"Hermione. You just suffered a terrible loss—"
"—so did you."
He shook his head. "It's not the same. And you nearly died. I don't want to risk you again."
"Oh. I see. Nearly dying makes me more susceptible to nearly dying again. It's not like you and Ron haven't nearly died before either. It must just be me that's too fragile to go on."
"That's not—"
"—and what do you mean you don't want to risk me again? Are you in charge of what risks I decide to take? Suddenly because we're in a relationship means you're in charge of me?" Hermione felt her body warn her that it wasn't ready for the exertion she was summoning. Her indignation pushed it aside.
Harry's hands were up in defense. He could see he miscalculated and didn't know how to defuse the bomb he had activated. Fleur's face was framed by the window facing the porch. Concern for her patient had the healer willing to intrude on the couple's privacy. Harry gave Hermione a look of helplessness.
Understanding that he was just reacting to the trauma he went through, she felt some guilt over yelling at him. She waved at Fleur. "Sorry. I'm okay." The healer didn't look entirely convinced, but wasn't ready to intervene quite yet. "Harry, I know I scared you."
"Terrified. I was terrified. You were laying there, covered in blood. You were so pale I thought you were dead until I saw you take a breath."
"I'm sorry, Harry. I am. We can't let that change us," she said to him, hoping he'd understand.
"If you don't think what you just went through changed you, I am even more sure you don't need to worry about what's inside a Gringott's vault." His words were steady and calm.
"I didn't say that," she shot back with equal certainty. "If it changes how you see me, how you treat me, it will change us." It was a warning and a plea.
Harry seemed to understand they were flirting with a line that he shouldn't cross. He sat back. "It's going to take weeks to have a plan. No one is asking anyone to make any decisions today. We both need time to come to terms with everything. I didn't mean to imply you weren't capable."
Feeling bad they had argued, she knew they both had to mourn and process their loss. Pulling a small bottle from her pocket, she handed it to him. Inside was a single, curly, black hair. "It's hers," Hermione said, not able to say Bellatrix's name. "It was on my shirt. We don't have anymore polyjuice potion, but it sounds like we have some time to brew some more."
He bristled at her pushing the issue after he had just temporarily conceded his position. He was forced to admit he'd need her logical problem solving ability if they would have any hope of successfully getting inside the ancient vault. He sighed in resignation, "We have her wand. It hasn't worked for anyone." He pulled it from his own pocket and offered her the handle.
"Where's my wand?" she asked, eyeing the long walnut wand like it might burn her.
Harry offered a sympathetic look. "It wasn't in the mix. The snatcher who took it must not have been in the room when we got to you."
With a shake in her hand, she reached out and took Bellatrix's wand. It felt wrong to hold it. She thought about the damage it had done to her. The history of the damage it had done to others. "Lumos," she said and it lit up so brightly they had to look away. Hermione extinguished it and swallowed. She looked at Harry in horror. "What does that say about me? That no one else could use it?"
Harry was quick to ease her concerns. "I talked to Mister Ollivander about wands. It just means that it recognizes you as its new master. Its allegiance has changed."
She set it down on the table next to them. She watched it for a beat, half expecting it to attack.
"It means you beat her," he said, getting her attention. "It means she tried to break you and you didn't let her. The wand knows her curses didn't make it through your resistance and you won."
"This doesn't feel like winning," she confessed.
