Trigger Warning! This is a story about miscarriage so if that triggers you I would not read. I want to explore the world of Harry Potter through different things. We all saw our trio come out strong but that doesn’t mean they didn’t face challenges like any adult would.
Hermione Granger faces the heartbreak of a miscarriage, struggling with the grief and uncertainty of how to face her family. Despite the overwhelming sadness, she finds solace in the unwavering support of those closest to her.
The quiet of the Burrow was the worst part. It was always warm here, filled with the sounds of her family’s laughter, the clatter of plates and cutlery, the hum of voices. It had always been her safe place, a sanctuary of love and comfort. But tonight, as she sat by the fire with a cup of tea in her hands, everything felt different.
Hermione Granger, usually so composed and strong, felt small. The weight of her grief was a constant pressure on her chest, as if the sorrow had become a part of her, creeping into every corner of her mind.
She hadn’t told her parents yet. She hadn’t told anyone.
Her body had betrayed her. The miscarriage had come unexpectedly—two weeks after she had finally learned she was pregnant. She had been filled with hope, with dreams of holding a baby, of seeing Ron become a father. But now, all that was gone, and Hermione was left with the emptiness.
The silence in the Burrow was suffocating. It was strange how the absence of noise could feel like such a loud thing. She felt isolated, alone with the weight of what had happened. She hadn’t even told Ron yet, not in a real way. The words stuck in her throat, and she couldn’t bring herself to say them. How could she? He had been so excited. So hopeful. She hadn’t known how to shatter that dream.
The sound of footsteps broke her thoughts, and she turned to see Ginny stepping into the room, a gentle smile on her face.
“Hermione?” she asked softly, her eyes searching Hermione’s face. “You alright?”
Hermione blinked, her hand tightening around the mug. “I—I don’t know. I just… I don’t know how to face anyone right now, Gin. How do I tell them what happened? What if they’re disappointed in me? What if they think I did something wrong?”
Ginny sat beside her without hesitation, her presence warm and steady. “Hermione, nothing about this is your fault. Not at all.” Her voice was soft, but firm, as if she were trying to convince Hermione of something she already knew. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You don’t need to hide away.”
Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, the tears threatening to spill over. “But I do. I feel like I’m supposed to be okay now, that it’s just something that happens and I should move on. But I don’t know how to move on. I don’t know how to explain this kind of loss.”
Ginny wrapped her arm around Hermione’s shoulders, pulling her close. “There’s no ‘right’ way to feel, Hermione. You don’t have to have all the answers. You’re allowed to grieve, and you’re allowed to take your time. And as for telling your family—take it one step at a time. You don’t have to do it all at once.”
“I feel so… broken,” Hermione whispered, the tears finally spilling over. “I wanted it so much, Ginny. I wanted to be a mother. I thought… I thought maybe it was my time, you know? But now… it feels like it’s all slipping away.”
Ginny didn’t say anything at first, just held her tighter. “I’m so sorry, Hermione,” she said after a moment, her voice thick with emotion. “I wish I could take away your pain.”
Hermione nodded, her chest tightening as she let herself feel everything that had been bottled up. She had been so afraid to grieve, afraid to show any vulnerability. But in Ginny’s embrace, she didn’t have to hide.
The door opened softly, and Ron appeared in the doorway. His expression faltered when he saw the tears on Hermione’s face, his usual warmth replaced with an unspoken concern. He crossed the room quickly, kneeling beside her.
“Hermione?” His voice cracked slightly. “Love, what’s wrong?”
Hermione shook her head, the words caught in her throat. Ron’s eyes scanned her face, desperate for an explanation. Ginny moved aside, allowing Ron to take her place by Hermione’s side.
“What happened?” Ron’s voice was soft, as if he already knew, but he needed her to say it.
Hermione met his eyes, the pain in her own reflected in his. “Ron, I lost the baby.” The words came out in a rush, but they felt like shards of glass, breaking her apart with every syllable. “I—I don’t know how to face this. How to face you. I wanted so much to give you this. I wanted to give you everything…”
Ron reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumb gently brushing away her tears. “Hermione,” he said, his voice filled with both sorrow and tenderness. “You didn’t do anything wrong. We didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault. Please don’t think that.”
She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, feeling the overwhelming weight of the grief she had tried to bury for the past few days. “I just don’t know how to move forward, Ron. I don’t know how to face everyone. To tell them. To tell my parents, to tell your mum…”
Ron nodded, his voice steady, filled with the quiet strength that had always grounded her. “You don’t have to do anything until you’re ready, Hermione. We’ll do it together, when you’re ready. I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone in this. We’ll face it together, every step.”
Hermione let out a breath, feeling a bit of the heaviness lift. It wasn’t going to be easy, but she wasn’t facing it alone. Ron and Ginny were here, and though the grief was still sharp, the quiet support around her made the pain more bearable.
Ginny gave her a soft smile, gently touching her shoulder. “You’ve got us, Hermione. You’ve always had us.”
The door opened once again, and this time, Harry stepped into the room, his face serious but kind. He had been waiting for his moment, for the right time to step in without crowding them. But when he saw the vulnerability in Hermione’s eyes, he moved forward with purpose.
“I’m so sorry,” Harry said, his voice thick with emotion as he sat beside her. He didn’t need to say anything else. They all understood. They were all hurting, in their own way. But Hermione could see the compassion in their eyes, the unwavering support they offered her.
“I don’t know what to say,” Hermione whispered, a sob breaking through her words.
Harry’s hand gently covered hers. “You don’t need to say anything. We’re here. We’ll be here when you’re ready to talk, when you’re ready to heal.”
Ron nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “Just know we love you. We’re not going anywhere. We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Hermione looked between her three closest friends, feeling a quiet surge of gratitude. They were her family. They were her support, her strength. And as much as she ached, as much as the loss would remain in her heart, she knew that with them by her side, she could get through this.
It wouldn’t be easy, and the pain would last longer than she expected, but she didn’t have to carry it alone. They would help her face each day, one step at a time.
And when she was ready, when she could finally breathe again, they would be there to help her begin anew.
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