Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize is mine. JKR is far better than I. This is just my thoughts of what it would have been like.

A/N: This is the last chapter of my beloved baby! Thank you to those who followed and favorited this story. It has been a wonderful experience to share some thoughts and receive the feedback and encouragement. Writing is such an important stress relief and I am grateful for all the support.

Guest reviewers:

Guest, Wizbie, and Squiby! You made me quite motivated to keep working! The excitement was wonderful and I am glad you were waiting so impatiently for the last portion of this fairytale. Thanks, boos!

Chapter Nineteen: Epilogue

10 Years Later:

"Ma'am, please stay alert! Mr. Weasley squeeze her hand and keep talking to her. I fear things are taking a turn for the worse, my dears," the mediwitch informed the exhausted couple.

Blinding pain ripped through Hermione's body as she struggled to remain coherent of everything around. Ron was pleading for her to remain strong, the devastating desperation piercing the witch's heart. However, tried as she may, the blackness took hold. Memories flooded her exhausted mind like wisps from a forgotten cloud. Milestones of her life played, inducing nostalgia and heartache.

The first was the night she came home to a candlelit flat, petals leading to our personal library. As Hermione stepped on the fragile silk, moments of Ron filled the air. Stolen moments. Moments she was not aware he had been so close and depending on her words and breath like a drug. As Hermione neared the library, the images became more recent. The night she gave him her all flashed, his eyes drinking her in with reverence. The door to the room was ajar, giving the witch quite the view of the ingenious beau standing in the middle of the room, holding a small leather-bound book in his hands. A nervous smile plastered across his handsome face.

"Ron…" she blushed.

He beckoned me to him with confidence she had seen before, the moment before he won a particularly rigorous game of chess. Hermione was intoxicated by this and seemed to float effortlessly towards him.

"Throughout my life, since that tragic day on the plane, I have had encountered and succeeded at particular milestones. Most, if not all, were with you by my side. You are my best friend, my rock, my critic, my lover, my every fantasy and dream. You are unapologetically intelligent and confidently gorgeous. I wanted our memories to be tangible once more. So I worked on the charm and spelled this book to contain them like a pensieve…with one exception."

With a flick of his wrist, the images from the floral trail gathered into the book he held within his hands. The pages became filed with pictures and text. Slowly, he closed the book, revealing the title: The Story of Us.

"That is truly brilliant, Ron," she whispered.

His expression morphed into his famous, heart melting smirk. "Always the tone of surprise." Flipping the book to the last entry, he continued, "This enchanted book is charmed to enlarge and rebind itself as needed. If we should need more pages to fill with our memories together. Tonight, it would do me the great honor…" he knelt down before her, eyes beginning to glisten with unshed tears of happiness, "if the next entry would be you agreeing to my heart and soul for the rest of our lives. Will you Hermione Jean Granger make me the happiest man, wizard, or creature and marry me?"

Memories of her tearful acceptance and the passionate embrace that followed whisped away, only to be replaced by images of her wedding in the backyard of her beloved Burrow. His undying love and adoration that still made her breath hitch every day. The tears brimming her eyes as Harry kissed her cheek lovingly as he gave her away at the altar, threatened to fall throughout the ceremony. The reception was beautiful affair with grand tent adorned with red and gold streamers. Astoria and Draco attended, the bitter rivalry seeming like a long forgotten spat. The vow to be her Knight made her melt into her husband's embrace all evening...and for the rest of the week for that matter. She seemed to remember the best gift of all to her: her name.

Most wizards want their family preserved at all costs. Ron, coming from a large pureblood family, customarily should have wanted this. Yet, here he was proudly presenting his new bride: Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. She recalled his response to his horrid Aunt Muriel.

The foul, old bat threw a disgruntled look at the bride, "Ronald, that bride of yours is disrespectful. She should surrender her name and honor your family now, not her own!"

Ron sighed, then cleared his throat roughly. "Aunt Muriel, my wife's name is none of your concern, frankly. Hermione Granger, not Weasley, is known for her valiant and brilliant contributions to our world, her world. She is the last of her family, suffering from their loss as a result of the war. Yes, she is now my bride. However, she is bloody brilliant and will keep her identity intact. Therefore, allow me to introduce you once more...Aunt Muriel, my bride: Hermione Jean GRANGER-Weasley," he boasted, beaming with pride.

The proud expression worn on his face transferred to a different memory: her pregnancy with Rose. The paralyzing fear she felt as her baby grew and the amount of monitoring spells she underwent to ensure she did not suffer from a miscarriage. The moments of her extreme discomfort and anxiety as she endured a hard labor, but their little girl was strong and fought. Rose was born with striking red curls and beautiful cerulean eyes, the perfect combination of her parents. The arrival of their daughter brought warnings of not risking another pregnancy. The spell damage from both attempts on her life left too much scar tissue and another pregnancy could mean her death.

Whisps of her arguments with Ron over wanting another baby floated before her.

"Absolutely not! Hermione, we have a child! I will not risk you again!" he roared.

Memory Hermione gently brought her hand to rest on his cheek, the other placing her hand on her flat stomach. "Ron, I want to give you a son. I do not want our child to be alone. I hated it and do not want that for her."

"She could end up motherless, Mione. Do you really want to risk it to give her a sibling, if it will leave her without a mum?" he urged.

"I just think we should recon-"

He kissed her harshly, holding his hands firmly locked in her curls and against her lower back. "Mione, I'm begging you. If I lost you…"

Memory Hermione peered down at the floor, her voice wavering, "What's done is done."

"Excuse me?"

"Ron, I'm pregnant. I will not abort the child. So we will just have to take it as it comes."

Ron swore under his breath, "How? How far along?"

Hermione shifted uncomfortably, "We didn't remember the charm a couple of weeks back. George's birthday party put you in a particularly exhilarating mood. I'm 6 weeks along. I discovered it this morning."

"I can't lose you. So if we decide to do this, the moment this gets complicated…" he desperately fretted.

She kissed him softly, reasoning, "Ron, I'll be fine. I was last time. We will just plan to arrange for an extra healer, now that we are aware of what to expect."

The memories ended and the searing pain returned. She was only 34 weeks along, the baby not quite ready to enter their world, yet. However, her womb and the scar tissue left her no choice. As she felt her body tremble and quiver from the agony of her failure. She felt the cold grasp of death on her throat as echoes of Ron's devastated voice bounced muffled in her mind.

As she lay fragile and limp on the hospital bed, Ron squeezed her hand and whispered apologies and promises into her matted, sweaty locks.

"Mr. Weasley, your wife grows weaker the longer this child remains in her womb. However, she is not yet ready, nor does she have the strength, to give birth. We must do a cesarean. Are you familiar with this technique?" the healer asked urgently.

Numbly, Ron nodded his head. "Do what you have to do."

The procedure was meticulous. The healers worked fiercely to retrieve the child, while still striving to ensure they didn't agitate the curse ridden scars. A quiet, still child was released from the cord and gently laid upon the awaiting table. Ron squeezed the limp hand of his beloved Hermione, desperately wishing for his child to scream...squirm...whimper.

The healers cast several charms on the premature newborn, becoming disheartened with each flick. The piercing wail that emitted from the tiny being was the most beautiful sound to the red head's ears. He began to sob, willing his wife to listen to their son cry and take his first breaths.

"Mione, he's here. You stubborn woman, Hugo Arthur Granger-Weasley is screaming and kicking. He's small, yet strong...like his Mum. Love, come back to me. Don't make me do this on my own. Come back!" he willed her.

Inside her foggy mind, Hermione felt the pressure of the healers releasing her child and the healing charms repairing her abdomen. She could faintly hear the pleas of her husband, the cries of her son...her son. She had managed to give him a son! She felt instantly lighter...the pressure she had placed upon herself to never allow her child to grow up alone, to give the love of her life a son was lifted. She sank deeper into her unconscious state, surrendering to the exhaustion of it all.

The hours went on as the healers worked tirelessly on the heroine. Ron was long since forced out of the room and he found himself staring into the NICU at his premature son. The brown curls plastered to his tiny head were a gift from his Mum, and it made Ron cry with happiness and grief at the same time. Harry stood at his side, silent and allowing his friend to release his emotions in any way he knew how.

A healer found him, his expression difficult to read. "Mr. Weasley! First of all, congratulations on the birth of your son. He is a bit premature, however he is strong and fighting. I see no difficulties in his recovery and that brings me to my second point. Your wife is a brilliant witch, a symbol to our world, but she was on the edge of death. There was nothing we could do. We performed an emergency procedure and removed the cursed tissues and organs. As a result, Mrs. Granger-Weasley will no longer be able to have children, and for that my sincerest apologies. She is in the ICU recovering and is coming to as we speak."

Ron shook his grief away and bolted for the department. Her room was encased with enchanted glass, so he found her quite easily. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused and disoriented. "Ron..." she rasped.

"Hermione, bloody hell, Love! You're awake! My beautiful...infuriatingly stubborn witch!" he whispered reverently into her curls.

Her body registered the healing incision, her chocolate eyes becoming frantic. Ron sensed her panic and soothed her worried, "Hugo Arthur was born premature and fighting. He's got your hair, Mione. Beautiful little brown tufts of curls!"

"We did it, Ron!" she cried wearily. "I can't have children anymore, can I?"

The ginger hung his head, but plastered a brave face to support her. "We have our children. We have a 2 year old princess and a newborn prince. They are more than enough for me! It's time the King took care of his Queen and kingdom."

She sang, eyes gleaming, "Weasley is our King!"

He kissed her soundly, resting his forehead on her own. "Every King needs his Queen, Love."

"You were my saving grace in my darkest moments, you know that?" she asked, tearing up.

"Rest now. This fairy tale isn't quite finished, Love," he declared fiercely, kissing her once more.

A/N: THANK YOU! MERCI! GRACIAS! My sincerest gratitude goes to all that have followed, favorited, commented, and enjoyed this journey! This chapter was heart breaking to complete, because it signifies the ending of a piece of my soul for the past 9 months. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for experiencing it with me! Pass on to your friends!