Rose Among the Thorns

Chapter 26

Four months later, a much rounder Hermione was back at her desk at the Ministry, surrounded by piles of parchment. She sighed and looked down at her feet, which were barely visible beneath her ever-expanding stomach. Although Charlie had told her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, Hermione seriously doubted it. She gingerly lifted her feet onto the filing cabinet next to her desk and winced. Her ankles looked like over-stuffed sausages forced into a too small casing.

She glanced up at the clock on the far wall. Only two more hours until it was time to leave. Hermione looked at the calendar tacked up on the wall of her cubicle and the big red circle surrounding today's date. It was her third appointment at St. Mungo's obstetrics office. She ticked off the months, six down, three more to go. Her pregnancy had come as quite a shock; Charlie's accident had thrown her life all out of kilter and she had not bothered to check the calendar back then.

Hermione leaned back in her chair and attempted to massage a painful knot in the small of her back.

"I sincerely hope you're worth all this trouble," she murmured at her own stomach.

She wondered if she could persuade Charlie to give her a massage later that evening, not that it would be difficult. Much like others of his sex, Charlie thought that a 'back rub' was always supposed to lead to the bedroom.

Hermione grinned to herself as she remembered the last time she had asked for a massage. It had been two months prior, when she was just beginning to show. They had been on a weekend holiday in Guernsey...

A soft beeping sound in her handbag started her from her memory. It was her mobile phone. In an effort to ease communication among the growing Weasley family, Hermione had suggested each family purchase a mobile, as Patronuses were ostentatious and rather difficult to explain to muggle passersby. Of course, Mr. Weasley had been the first to agree with her idea, and soon the entire family used them to communicate.

"Hello?" she asked.

"It's Ginny."

"Oh, hello, Gin, I'm still at work..."

"Come to St. Mungo's now," Ginny interrupted. "Penny's going to meet you in the lobby."

Hermione was instantly alarmed. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

"Just hurry," Ginny answered, and Hermione heard a click.

"Peggy, I've got to go," she said to the middle-aged witch in the cubicle next to hers.

Hermione snatched up her handbag and ran as fast as her pregnant body would allow, anxiously punching the lift button several times. She squeezed into the already crowded lift and silently willing it to go faster, hoping that no one else attempted to get on. When she finally reached the Atrium, she quickly approached one of the fireplaces and Flooed to St. Mungo's.

Tumbling out of the fireplace at the hospital, she nearly lost her balance, but an elderly wizard with thick spectacles caught her. Murmuring her thanks, Hermione scanned the room for her sister-in-law.

"Hermione!" a voice called.

Hermione turned to see Penny waving from across the lobby. She swiftly walked over to her.

"What is it? What's happened?" Hermione demanded.

Penny's face was as white as ashes. "Its..." she faltered. "It's... Ron."

Hermione's knees began to buckle. She quickly caught herself, and without saying a word, turned and hurtled toward the stairs. She heard nothing but a loud rushing sound in her ears as she clambered up the steps. Hermione was unseeing as she passed floor after floor, the route to his room was so familiar.

She burst into the ward, damp with perspiration and trembling violently. Hermione could see a thick sea of legs behind a hospital curtain at the far end of the room and she ran toward them. Ripping the curtain open, she didn't even look them in the face as she collapsed next to Ron's head. Harry was also on the floor, on the opposite side of the bed. Ron's mouth was covered with a mask, and several machines were beeping behind him.

"What's happened?" she whispered to Harry.

"He's had a massive stroke," Harry replied. "He's already stopped breathing once. The Healers have brought in some machines to help him keep breathing, but they're not sure how long he'll be able to hold on."

Hermione looked at her dearest friend. She could see faint tear tracks down each cheek. Her heart dropped. If Harry was crying, it had to be the worst.

She placed her forehead against Ron's temple. All these years he had been ill, Hermione had always believed, deep down, that he would wake up, that he would come back to her. Suddenly, she finally understood that it could never happen. Even if he survived now, he would be so irrevocably beyond repair that he would probably remain in a coma forever.

Silent tears began to slip down her cheeks.

"He's dying, isn't he?" she whispered, never moving her face from Ron's cheek.

Harry looked at her mournfully. "Yes," he answered.

He took her hand, and together they wept for the loss of their dearest and most beloved friend.

Ron was never coming back.

Ron was never coming back.

Ron was never coming back.

Over and over she repeated it in her head. Hermione's heart felt as though it would burst with agony. She slowly brushed her hand over Ron's hair, gently flattening it against his forehead. She was completely numb to her surroundings. All she understood was that Ron was dying, and she, the clever, all knowing, "brightest witch of her age" could do nothing to help him.

Hermione had no idea how long she and Harry had sat with Ron when Mr. Weasley gently laid his hand on her shoulder.

"The Healers said that Ron isn't breathing on his own anymore," he said, his voice watery. "They can't find any brain function..." Mr. Weasley's voice choked and he began to cry.

Hermione finally lifted her head and looked at her father-in-law. "They want us to let go, don't they?" she asked him softly.

He nodded. "We can't do anything more for him," he replied.

Hermione looked across the bed at Harry. His face was damp and red. Without speaking, they knew what each other was thinking. Silently they communicated their deep and unswerving love with Ron and each other.

Harry cleared his throat and wiped his nose on his sleeve. "We're ready."

Hermione gripped Harry's other hand tightly as Mr. Weasley motioned for the Healers to come over. She brushed Ron's hair once more, and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I love you," she murmured in his ear. She took his hand in hers. "Goodbye," she whispered, her voice full of tears.

As the Healers removed the mask from his face, Hermione thought she might have felt the faintest of tremors from Ron's hand. She watched as the shallow rise and fall of his chest stopped.

From somewhere in the foggy distance, Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley sob loudly. After a few long moments, Hermione sat back and wiped her eyes. She slowly stood and threw back the curtains and staggered away from the bed. She was nearly half way down the ward when she felt a gentle touch on her wrist. Turning around, she found she was facing Harry. They stood and stared at one another for several seconds, until he wrapped her into a fierce hug. Hermione laid her head on his shoulder and they stood, wrapped in each other's arms, silently mourning their best friend.

Across the room, only one of the Weasleys watched the exchange. And while he was heartbroken at his brother's death, he was also terrified that he had just lost the greatest love of his life.

*****

notes: Yes, I just killed Ron. I know that some of you were waiting for a "battle royale" between Charlie and Ron, I'm sorry. Ron's death wasn't part of the plan early on, but as the story took shape in my mind it just seemed like it worked. And for those of you who were waiting for Ron to wake up and fight Charlie for her love and affections, it might not be a physical fight, but Charlie's still going to have a very rough time getting Hermione back.