There was a silence in the hospital wing. It should not have been that way, but he was slowly growing used to the silence. On this day, however, he wished for any sound at all -- a scream, a sigh, a whimper -- anything to prove that she was still in there, a bit of consciousness floating inside of her unmoving body. He would have given his right hand to hear her beautiful laughter again. But there was nothing.

He stood at the edge of her hospital bed, nervously gripping one of her cold hands that never squeezed back. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead. Mediwitches were bustling about the room, but they all faded away as he concentrated on his wife’s face. Not a single emotion graced her lovely features, but her pale forehead was covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

‘Come on,’ he whispered fiercely to her. ‘Come on, do something! Anything!’ But he knew that it was hopeless. He was just wasting his breath.

‘She’s never going to respond!’ called the mediwitch at the foot of the bed to the witch who had just entered the room.

‘We predicted as much,’ said the witch as she hurried to the bedside. ‘We’ll have to start the procedure…’

He didn’t listen any more. He swallowed hard, fighting down his growing panic. Their Healer had talked to him about his wife’s condition and their options when the time came. But what if something went wrong? They hadn’t been due for this hospital visit for another week. What if he lost her? What would he do if he lost the one that he already loved so much but hadn’t yet met? He would fall completely apart—again. His mind almost replayed that horrific night not even a year ago…


The duel he had been having with McNair came to an abrupt halt. McNair’s attention suddenly fixed upon something behind Ron, who took advantage of the Death Eater’s momentary distraction. He Full-Bodied McNair quickly and snapped the Death Eater’s wand in half. Ron turned around, preparing himself for the worst. He let out a sigh of relief when he registered the scene before him, though the relief was short-lived. Harry and Voldemort were enveloped in a bright golden light. They were both screaming out in agony—it was a wonder Ron hadn’t heard them. Voldemort clutched his head and writhed on the ground while Harry had his eyes closed tightly and both hands pressed over his heart.
Harry’s going to win, Ron had thought. He and Hermione had gone over and over the ancient spell with Harry until he had begun repeating the incantation in his sleep. There was no way that Voldemort could expect a lethal blow such as this.

The screams crescendo’d as Voldemort disintegrated before the eyes of the spectators. Then suddenly all was quiet as Harry lay shaking and broken on the ground. Ron had rushed over to his best mate, ignoring the shrieks and groans of the Death Eaters around him as their Dark Marks burned deep holes in their forearms.

‘Alright, Harry?’ he had asked his friend anxiously as he crouched and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘Yeah,’ Harry had croaked, opening his eyes at last to focus on Ron’s face above him. He blearily glanced around. ‘Did it work?’

Ron grinned widely as he helped Harry to his feet. ‘Did it work?! Harry, the snake just blew up into a million pieces! Of course it worked!’

‘It’s over,’ Harry murmured as a huge smile of relief spread across his sweaty face. ‘He’s gone!’ Harry embraced Ron and the two friends just held each other, Ron silently thanking Harry for giving him the rest of his life and Harry thanking Ron most fervently in his heart for always remaining by his side.

‘Wait,’ said Harry suddenly as he and Ron released each other. ‘Where are Hermione and Ginny?’

It was then that Ron’s eyes were pulled, almost magically, to the scene unfolding a good distance away from where Voldemort’s robes were still smouldering. Ron had felt the cold, but he had brushed it off as he ran to Harry’s side. As the friends caught sight of the dementors, Ron knew that it had been no ordinary chill. Time seemed to slow as his eyes caught sight of a woman slowly rising from the ground, directly in the dementors’ path. She had been knocked out at some point during the battle and was just now waking.

‘Hermione!’ shouted Harry as he and Ron surged forward. Ron couldn’t find his voice.

Hermione’s attention had fixed itself upon the advancing dementors. ‘Expecto Patronum!’ Ron heard her call. ‘No! Expecto Patronum! Expecto-’

Ron and Harry had both fired their own Patronuses, which took out the nearest dementors. As the glowing stag and terrier ran across the lawn of a broken Hogwarts, the dementor nearest Hermione lowered its hood and took Hermione’s face in its scabbed hands.

‘HERMIONE!’ Ron yelled, finally finding his voice. Suddenly, he and Harry found themselves falling hard to the ground.

‘Hello, boys,’ rasped a voice beside Ron. Draco Malfoy’s bloody hand was clutching the wand that had fired the Tripping Hex. Without thinking, Ron had grabbed the sword of Gryffindor Harry had discarded earlier that night. He plunged the sword through Malfoy’s throat, drowning the boy’s laughter to a blood-filled gurgle that faded into nothingness. Ron leapt to his feet, Harry right behind him. Hermione had given up the Patronus Charm and was fighting the closest dementor tooth and nail. She shrieked as the dementor calmly plucked the offending wand out of her hand. Her eyes widened and her screams were muffled as the dementor’s mouth met hers. Ron and Harry threw themselves into the throng of tattered black robes and coldness. Stag and dog worked hard to break up the surrounding dementors as their humans reached Hermione. But they could not divide the Kiss.

‘NO! HERMIONE!’ The words were torn out of Ron’s throat. He put everything he could into ripping the dementor’s hands from Hermione’s head. Her terrified eyes locked onto his, and he could only watch as the bright life slowly vanished from her brown depths.

Too late had Harry released his Patronus again. Too late had Ron severed the neck of the dementor. He had been too late to save his wife.


Ron gripped Hermione’s limp hand as the Mediwitches began the caesarean section. They would not be too late this time. Ron would not let it happen.

And it didn’t. A short time later, his screaming, red-faced newborn daughter was placed in his arms. Ron couldn’t keep the tears from falling fast as he held the tiny baby in his arms.

‘Congratulations, love,’ he choked out, looking into Hermione’s lifeless eyes. ‘It’s a girl.’