One Shots

Romione (Warning : Very sad)

(Play the song. Please.)

It started with the cramps. Not just any regular cramps. Excruciating, debilitating. I stayed home from work for a day before Ron told me I had to go back. Not as a forceful request, he just thought it might take my mind off of it. Or that it would go away soon. But it didn't. During my lunch break, I felt very nauseated and started walking towards the bathroom, fearful that I was dying. Sure I had experienced things like the flu but this was no flu.

Just as I passed the fountain, the pain suddenly turned white hot, burning, searing. I screamed out, sinking to my knees, panting. I clutched my stomach. Now terrified I was dying. Terrified that Delilah was dying. I suddenly felt something slowly running down my leg. I turned my head and screamed in horror when I saw a line of blood running down my white trousers.

By then, people were rushing over, calling ambulances. I pushed them all off of me, scooting back from everyone until I was at the edge of the fountain. Tears were filling the corners of my eyes. "No..." I gasped out. "No... God, no, please..." Barely made it from my mouth before another agonized scream left me. I felt blood just pouring freely now, creating almost a pool between my legs. I knew what was happening now. I was losing my baby... I had lost her... My poor little baby... Ron's little baby. Our little baby.

Ron suddenly pushed through the crowd and gasped loudly when he saw the large pool. He kneeled beside me, pulling me close. He slowly and gingerly lifted me in his lap. He sat leaned against the fountain, holding me, his bleeding, pained, tearful wife in his lap. He began petting my cheek. "Shh. Shh Mione. I've got you..." He whispered. Oh God, how could I ever tell him? How could I ever tell him that I lost his baby... He would never forgive me... I killed his baby... Oh dear Merlin, my baby is gone... Oh God, please, why did you need her? Why couldn't we have kept her?

The anger started erupting from my body. "WHY CAN'T WE HAVE HER!? WE'VE DONE SO FUCKING MUCH FOR YOU!" I screamed. I don't know what I was screaming at. My eyes were screwed shut. Maybe I was screaming at Ron's direction. I hope not... I'm probably scaring him so much.

"THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US!? WE SAVED SO MANY PEOPLE! WE SAVED THE WORLD! AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY US!? YOU TAKE OUR BLOODY CHILD!?" I shrieked out, my voice becoming hoarse. The realization struck in Ron. I know because as I finished shrieking, his arms went a little weak.

"M-Mione?" He whispered lightly. I cried, not wanting to explain. I feel so bad about all of this. I've done this to him. I've done this to Delilah. I've broken apart the little family I had left and now I'm terrified. Ron will understand I hope. He'll be able to piece himself back together. He's very strong. But I don't know if I'll ever be able to recover from this. From the guilt that I killed my own daughter. That something I had done had caused this to happen.

I heard nurses shouting, pushing through the crowds. It all happened so fast really. One moment I was in Ron's arms, crying, screaming nonsense. Not what felt like two moments later I was being lifted, screaming again in excruciating pain. I felt the nurses pushing me through the halls, towards the fireplace to transport me directly to St. Mungos. I heard Ron's thudding footsteps, felt his hand grasping mine. I heard his sobs. And then, I remember a flash of blinding green light, and I fell unconscious.

I woke what they said was two hours later but it felt like days. I was hooked up to monitors and iv's. They had to go and fetch Ron, and when he came in, I saw the light leave his eyes. I saw his heart shatter.

"Ron?" I asked, trying to sit up. I grunted lightly, finding myself unable to move into a purely upright position. "No, no, no, love. Stay right there. Don't move, okay? I'll come to you."

I nodded and laid back. He came towards me and took my hand. He avoided my eyes. I knew why...

"Ron?" I choked out, looking up at him, tears starting to cloud my vision. He looked at me and his lip began trembling. He must've seen the look in my eyes because he nodded right before he let out a sob. "Sh-She's gone, Mione... We lost her..." I remember him sobbing out.

My face fell and I was at a complete and utter loss of words. I don't know why. But at that moment, I didn't do what they do in the movies. I didn't scream. I didn't sob my heart out... My mind just went blank. And I sat there. Eyes full of tears, only a few spilling over.

It took me a few minutes to even regain where I was, who I was, what day it was, everything. I couldn't feel my heart beating. The emptiness in my stomach was overwhelming. She should've been there. But she wasn't.

The next day, Ron told the family. Everyone showed their condolences and everyone obviously had their tears to shed. I was surprised to know that I was the first one in the family to ever have a miscarriage. And it made me feel worse. Like I had done something wrong. Like I had robbed Ron of something that his other brothers and his sister had.

I didn't eat well for a couple of days. A cracker here, a cracker there. A sip of water here, a rage fit there. Most of the day I spent in my library or sitting outside in the grass, just staring out at the open meadow. It tore me apart. Wondering what I had done to her... To kill her...

On the third day, I opened the door, a cup of tea in my hand, ready to head into the meadow once more. The door was stuck. I kicked it and it finally opened, but I was surprised to find what had stopped it. Dozens upon dozens of roses. I found two dozens from each family. A few friends.

Two white dozens from Harry and Ginny.
Another two white dozens from Charlie.
Two pink dozens from Bill and Fleur.
Two red dozens from George and Angelina.
Two dozen yellow from Luna.
Two dozen black from Draco.

I sniffled and a big smile grew on my face. I softly called Ron out and showed him. We took two from each dozen. One of which we placed in a vase. All together. It was mismatched and out of place but it was beautiful and it gave me a bit of hope. I put it on the kitchen table.

We took out our little scrapbook, taking the other group we had and placing one in each page with the name of who had given us the certain rose beside it.

We took the remaining 132 -yes, that many- and had them arranged. We put the large arrangement on her grave. Those roses gave me hope. After that day, I started eating more, which slowly turned into my regular eating schedule. I started talking to Ron more. Which meant even on the occasions where I had a bad day, we'd talk and he'd help me through it.

I got back to work. I still missed her deeply but I was able to function and remember her in a way that was acceptable.

Now, three years later, I hold Ron's hand as our daughter is put softly on my chest. I'm exhausted and I don't see how I did it. I place a small kiss to her head and the doctor smiles at me. "What would you like to name her?" She asks. All of my hope and pride and joy lays right here on my chest. I look up at the doctor and with tears in my eyes, I whisper.

"Rose."