Hermione was sitting in the newly painted Nursery. They had finally decided on a pale orange colour, as it one one of the few colours that didn't insight house rivalries at a glance, and besides, Ron always boasted that his sons and daughters would be raised as Chudley Cannons fans.
She had just finished re-folding and running her hand over the soft blue baby jumpsuit when she was startled by a noise from the hallway. Looking up in time to see Ron staring at her, lips taut and brows furrowed before he turned away and headed down the stairs to the main landing of their home.
Hermione wasn't put off by this though, she knew Ron didn't expect to have kids just yet, it was too late now, as she stroked her 8 month full belly. He had been especially grumpy for the past few days, but Hermione wouldn't be deterred, she was in her 'nesting phase' which all her books talked about as point in a women's' pregnancy where she would make her home ready for the baby, which would sometimes come across as excessive. Hermione, never being one to do anything by half, made sure every nook and cranny was made ready for her little one. She was going to do everything right for this baby, no matter what.
Done with her work in the nursery, she went down stairs, meeting her husbands gaze at the landing, his eyes passing over her, resting on her midriff, her jumper showing off the full size of her stomach.
"I was thinking of ways to improve the back garden, I read in one of my books that outside stimulation is great for a baby's brain development. So I was think about setting up-"
Taken back by his abruptness, Hermione pauses for a second, before continuing.
"Really, Ron. A outside play area is that much of a hassle, a few wards to stop any insects or strays-"
"Stop it, Hermione, I meant it. I'm tired of you and your bloody nesting!"
"Well one of has to be prepared, Ronald, our child is coming soon and Ill be damned if I bring my baby home to an unready house"
"HE'S DEAD HERMIONE, WE'LL NEVER GET TO BRING HIM HOME!"
Absolute silence filled the house, the ringing from Ron's shouts died away, and the couple stood facing each other, at an empass.
"It broke my heart when the healer told us, but we lost our son, Mione, before we even had a chance to hold him. We cant bring him home. Please, its killing me too, let me in, I need to mourn, Mione. I need you."
Blinking rapidly, Hermione's eyes spun around the room, she wouldn't look at Ron, she wouldn't break.
"No. They're lying. I would know. He can't be dead, I did everything right, I know we didn't want a baby right away, but that doesn't mean I wanted him gone"
"Oh Hermione....Gods above, Mione, its no ones fault. The Healer said it's happens to some. We couldn't have done anything more for him."
Hermione started at her husband. The pain and guilt of the last fews days came crashing down, as she finally felt herself admit; their baby had been lost. Something in the placenta, the healers had told her a Ron on their latest visit. She had been denying all of it. She was Hermione Granger-Weasley. The Brightest Witch Of Her Age. Studious to a fault. Couldn't do what even a stray alley cat could do; have her baby.
She had read every pre, post, and neo-natal books she could find, both Magical and Muggle, determined that like her Newts, she would ace it on the first try. But something inside her had broken, and without any chance of knowing it, she had lost her child. The Healer said that a spell could be performed to 'take care of it' but she refused, her Muggle heritage making her keep her baby, and she was to be induced the next week, to prevent any issues with further pregnancies.
She felt her legs give out, and she hobbled over to the couch, and finally let herself cry. Ron went to comfort her, crying himself in grief, for what was at first quiet crying crescendoed into heartbreaking wails of a women who lost the title of mother before she even had it.
Voice lost and eyes swollen and ran dry, she surrounded herself in her husband, as they mourned.
"Thomas. Thomas Arthur Weasley" She whispered. Ron stared ahead, unseeing.
"I love it. We will always love our little Thomas."
Many years later, Hermione found herself in the back garden of their home. She sat down in front of what looked like a small garden feature. It was a half a foot tall statue of a sleeping baby, semi-encased in wings and partially covered by the gardens wild nature. In her arms lay a wrapped up sleeping babe. No more than a week old.
"Thomas I want you to meet someone. This is Rose, she's your little sister. She's only a week old."
Looking between the baby in her arms and the stone statue in the bush, she sighed and bit her lip
"You'd be about 5 by now. I real nightmare I'd imagine, if you're like any Weasley I know. I still love you. I want you to know that because we have Rose, or any other children your father and I will have, doesn't mean we don't love you, Thomas. I'll always love you no matter what, and miss you, and wish I could have meet you."
Breathing in deeply, Hermione leaned forward, pressing her lips to the cool stone baby, before quietly standing up and heading back inside the house, where the Weasley's, Potter's and Granger's were sitting inside. Ron walking over to her to wrap his arm around her waist in comfort, both of them feeling the same mix of joy and sadness and the thought of their children.