Roses are Red

by ChatterChick

Summary: Hermione would never give birth to a living child. Warnings Inside.

A/N: This was written for the Hangman Challenge, Father's Day Competition and The Strong Themes Competition all at HPFC. Prompts used were 'anomaly', 'scribble' and 'broken mirror'. Father/child relationship was Ron/Rose. Warnings: Miscarriage, grief, mentions of torture, domestic violence, child abuse and neglect. Reviews are always appreciated!

Ron took a brief inventory of the two books on the coffee table, the page of notes next to them and the four half-empty cups of coffee. There were bags under Hermione's eyes and her hair was still tied back in a loose, messy bun like it had been the night before.

"Did you come to bed last night?"

This was getting to be a routine and Ron didn't know how to change it. During the week, Hermione threw herself into her work at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. On the weekends, she threw herself into her personal research with equal passion. She had been this way ever since they lost their daughter, Matilda, a year ago.

"I fell asleep on the couch."

"How long?"

"Long enough," she dismissively said.

"'Mione – "

They didn't have a problem getting pregnant as much as remaining pregnant. There were a number of times Hermione miscarried in the first month or two, and there had been two miscarriages during the later stages of pregnancy. One had been at week twenty-three and the other at week thirty-one. While the early-term miscarriages had been disappointing, those two were devastating. They had begun to hope and plan for the expected child only to be crushed each time. The last pregnancy, however, had completely shattered their hearts. After a very stressful nine months, Hermione finally managed to carry a daughter to term and went into labour at week thirty-eight.

Things quickly turned to hell when it came time to push the baby out.

Hermione had started screaming in an unnatural pain in the delivery room. Within seconds Ron was shoved to the side by a pair of frantic healers, and he knew that something had gone wrong with the delivery. That this wasn't the usual pains a woman went through during labour, but something much darker. Her head had tipped back, a blood-curdling scream drawn from her lips, tears screamed down her eyes, her body thrashed while the healers tried to hold her down.

Ron didn't remember much after that, his body acting on impulse the moment he saw how much distress his wife was in. A healer had to immobilise him and remove him from the room.

When he came to, he had been informed that Hermione was sleeping off a Painless Potion and their daughter had died during the delivery. Guilt set in that he had done this to her, he had gotten her pregnant and caused her so much pain.

The healers had kept Hermione for a few days to do a medical evaluation, discovering an anomaly with her womb. There was a curse that lingered there, although they couldn't determine who had put it there or when. It was incredibly dark magic, and there was no known counter-curse. It had been a favourite among the Death Eaters in the early days of the first war, cursing muggle-born women to prevent them from 'dirtying' the magical population. Hermione would never give birth to a living child.

"It's fine. I'm fine," she stubbornly insisted. "Just a bit of light research since it's my day off. I'm just trying to help the healers; you know they don't have the time to pursue this like I do."

Hermione wasn't one to be told 'never' and she launched herself into her research, determined to find a way to reverse the curse. Ron was certain she was just as qualified as any healer at St Mungo's at this point and could pass the HEALs, Healer's Exhaustive Aptitude Levels, with top marks. With anything, Hermione poured her heart into the task and this one was deeply personal. Both wanted to have a family together, although Ron was willing to let go of that dream if it meant having Hermione back. He was also, frankly, terrified of another pregnancy ending as painfully for Hermione as the last.

"I'm going to start breakfast," he said. "Did you want anything in particular?"

Hermione made a soft hum in response, her attention back on the book. That was as much as he'd get out of her, so Ron decided to just go ahead and make breakfast for the two of them. If left to her own devices, Hermione tended to forget meals as well as sleep when she was like this.

He lit the stove with his wand, going about preparing breakfast. Before long, he had bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove, along with a stack of toast. He placed it all on a tray to take to the living room so they could eat together. A cup of coffee for him and pumpkin juice for Hermione was added to the tray, since he was sure she didn't need any more caffeine.

He put the tray on the coffee table and sat down next to her. She seemed to ignore breakfast in favour of whatever she was engrossed in. Her usually neat handwriting had turned to a sloppy scribble as she hastily made notes.

Ron took the book away from her, fighting the protests that Hermione made. "Why don't you take a break, you've been at this all morning. What was it you used to say? Take a ten minute break for every fifty minutes of studying?"

"We talked about this," Hermione shook her head, snatching the book back. "I want to start a family with you, but we need to come up with a counter-curse in the next few years. I'm going to be thirty this September and who knows how long any of this will take! We can't afford to waste time!"

Someone once told him that woman had this biological 'clock', and as they approached their thirties they got more worried about having children within the next decade before that clock ran out. Hermione seemed to worry about her clock a lot lately, especially since it seemed that it might take years to find a way to counter the curse.

"I'm not going to watch you work yourself into an early grave over this. If we can't have biological children, there are other ways, you know?"

Hermione's eyes lowered and she dropped the book in her lap with a sigh. "It's silly really. I know they don't have to be related to us to be our children. I tell that to people all the time, you know, family isn't blood. I mean, look at Harry! He's my brother, and I won't hear any different. It's just I should be able to have children and I can't and I feel like I'm failing you – "

"You're not failing me, you're amazing; best wife a bloke could ask for and I bloody well know it." He planted a kiss to the side of her head. In a teasing tone, he said, "If I had to grade you, definitely an O in the bedroom – "

She hit him on the arm. "Bloody prat, you don't get to grade me on our marriage."

"Well, then you don't get to talk about failing me. You're not as far as I'm concerned."

There was a humph and Ron knew that even if Hermione believed she wasn't failing him, she believed she was failing herself. Anyone with half a brain could tell Hermione hated failure. The fact that her own body was failing her in this aspect was going to drive her around the bend.

"Healer Alderton finally got back to me. He wants to meet with us in three weeks," said Hermione. She rested her head on Ron's shoulder, letting him wrap an arm around her. "I want to see what he says on the matter. He's the expert on counter-curses."

They stayed like that on the couch for a while. Hermione's eyes started to droop as she nestled into his side. Ron picked up one of the books Hermione had on the table, The Dark Arts Outsmarted, and scanned the table of contents. He had read this one himself, cover to cover, when he had been in Auror training. He had read it again over the last year as it held one of the few passages on the curse Hermione was trying to counter.

A silver stag came galloping into their living room, stopping in front of Ron. In his best mate's voice, it spoke. "There's a domestic duel at One-Thirteen Knockturn Alley. Can you meet me there?"

It faded into strands of silver smoke, not waiting for Ron's response. Ron sent out his own Jack Russell Terrier to agree to meet Harry in ten minutes.

He kissed Hermione on the cheek before he left. "I'll be back, just have to break up a duel. Try to take a nap or something."

xXxXx

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted the moment Ron blasted down the door. "Stupefy!"

It was a common procedure. At least once a week Ron had to respond to a patronus or floo call about someone's neighbours duelling. Fights would break out between partners, and heated words quickly turned into both drawing their wands and cursing the other. Rather than walk into a home where hexes and curses were flying, it was better to stun all the parties and ask questions once they had calmed down.

The two people crashed to the ground, the hexes dying mid-air as their casters were knocked unconscious by Harry's stunners.

Ron rushed over to the woman's side, finding a pulse. She seemed fine, aside from a gash across her forehead and green boils on her back. The man was in similar condition, with a broken nose and blisters burning up and down his arm. Nothing that couldn't be sorted out by a medi-witch, although it would be another matter entirely to sort out whatever issue had lead to this fight.

Harry stood over the pair of them. "St Mungo's is sending someone over; they'll be here in a few minutes. The neighbours who reported them said there should be two small children in the flat."

"Shit," cursed Ron. The poor kids were probably terrified.

"I'll stay with these two until the medi-witch gets here. You search the flat?"

The damage to the flat had been extensive in their duel. The wooden table and chairs were overturned and broken. There was a broken mirror in the hallway as well as cracks along the walls. Ron made a mental note of the state of the flat, as he would be forced to write a report afterwards. Either the duel had lasted quite some time, or this was just the latest round.

Ron went through each room, casting homenum revelio to try to find where a pair of frightened children could be hiding. One of the bedroom doors was locked when Ron tried to twist the handle.

"Alohomora."

Inside was a children's room with a crib and a tiny bed. It was eerily silent as Ron walked in, and a feeling of dread settled in his stomach as he approached the crib.

These situations never went well when there were kids caught up in it. He had seen it enough in his years as an auror. There were wizards who'd snap and kill their family. Spousal arguments escalated and the children got caught in the middle of a duel. The loser of a custody battle would decided that neither of them would have the children.

It was sick.

He shook his head, trying not to think of the worst case scenario. He peered into the crib where he found a baby crying, his chubby face beet red and contorted as he screamed with all his might. Yet for all his screaming, there was no sound coming from him. The baby couldn't be much older than his youngest niece, Lily. Ron let out a sigh of relief, finding one of the children alive. He lifted the silencing spell and picked the baby up.

"It's okay," Ron tried to calm the baby. He was filthy and in desperate need of a change. "Merlin, how long did they leave you for?"

Ron had babysat his various nieces and nephews enough times over the years and knew how to get the baby cleaned up. There was a nasty rash from being left in soiled nappies so long. Ron knew he would have to take the kids to St Mungo's to be completely checked over. From the looks of it, the children didn't receive much care from their parents.

"This should do it for now," Ron picked up the baby from the counter. He was still crying, although the intensity was starting to lessen. There were a few hiccups and sniffles as he calmed in Ron's arms. "Shhh, it's okay. You're safe little guy."

He suspected that the other child was hiding somewhere. He shifted the baby in his arms, moving around the room as he searched for a brother or sister. "It's okay, you can come out. I'm Auror Weasley and I'm here to help you."

He doubted that was reassuring to a terrified child. Based on the small bed and the few toys scattered about, the kid couldn't be more than three. They probably didn't know what an auror was or whether they could trust this strange wizard in their room.

He checked in the small space under the bed, and then peaked in the open closet, looking for another child hidden among the clothes and boxes.

When he went to shut the closet door, he found a small girl hiding on the other side, pressing herself flat against the wall. Her blue eyes widened at being discovered, and she seemed to wilt, sliding down the wall and making herself look even smaller. She had some wisps of auburn hair framing her face, and a suspicious looking cut on her cheek. There was a scorch mark on her upper arm that could only be possible with a wand.

He knelt down, keeping a distance between them. "My name's Ron. I'm here to help you and your brother. What's your name?"

She opened her mouth a few times, but when no sound came out she got a panicked look in her eye. Ron lifted the silencing spell on her. "There, let's try again. What's your name, love?"

"Rose."

xXxXx

Ron wanted to strangle someone.

He fully believed there was a special kind of hell for the type of person who locked their kids up for hours at a time under a pair of silencing spells. The type of person who forgot to check on them. The type of person who would hex a toddler and just leave her.

And that hell was in the depths of Azkaban. This was one of the few times that he regretted pushing for the removal of the dementors.

Instead he kept his voice calm and a reassuring smile on his face every time Rose looked at him. He bounced her little brother, who she had called Hugo, on his knee as Rose was being examined by a healer. She had been terribly shaken when the healer first pulled his wand out, and had dropped to the floor, hiding under the hospital bed. It had taken a while, but Ron had managed to coax her back out.

Now she sat on the hospital bed, her legs hanging over the side and her posture much too stiff and still for a young child. She held her arm out as a healer was forced to re-break one of the bones and set it properly. It was a fairly quick and painless procedure in the wizarding world, but one that should have been done weeks ago.

A grey-haired and tired social worker greeted them as soon as the healer left. It had been obvious from the start that the kids couldn't be returned to their parents. Harry was questioning them now at the Ministry under Veritaserum.

"Normally I can count on your mother to take them if I'm stuck, but I suppose St Mungo's could hold on to them for a few nights – " the social worker rambled.

His parents had gone on a long-overdue holiday. They were in Italy for a week, and then would go visit Charlie in Romania for another week. Ron looked at the baby in his lap and the little girl on the bed. They were just starting to get used to him, it didn't seem right to abandon them to be shuffled around by strangers.

"Hermione and I could take them."

The social worker looked relieved. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, we have a spare room we can put them in for a few days, it's no problem."

"I'll go collect some of their things then," she said. "And I'll meet with you and your wife to make sure the house is child proof. Although knowing your wife, I'm sure everything will be just perfect."

Ron gave her the address, before collecting the children and bringing them to the apparation point on the main floor. It was a smoother trip than the first time, when he took them by side-along to the hospital earlier. It had frightened them and they both started crying in the main lobby. The small upside was that screaming children didn't have to wait long to see a healer.

This time, Hugo still let out a piercing wail, but Rose only trembled and tightly held on to the leg of his trousers. Her bottom lip quivered and she looked dangerously close to tears again. Ron tried to shush Hugo and simultaneously reassure Rose. "I know, I know that's not very fun. Last time we're doing that, I swear. You've been such a good girl today, very brave."

"Ron what on earth - " Hermione's mouth fell open as she stopped in the hallway, spotting the three of them in the entrance.

"This is Rose, and this is her brother, Hugo. I told the social worker we'd keep them for the next few days while she figures out what to do with them." Ron introduced them in an overly cheery voice. Rose pulled away and was curiously examining Hermione. Later, he mouthed, seeing all the questions forming in his wife's eyes. "Rose, this Hermione."

They prepared the spare bedroom for their two little guests. Hermione transfigured one of the dressers into a crib for Hugo, and Ron put some protective charms on the single bed so that Rose wouldn't roll out of it. The walls were still painted a comforting soft blue, and Hermione quickly baby-proofed the house to make sure there were no sharp edges to cut tender skin or tiny objects to choke on.

This was supposed to be the nursery for their first child, although Ron had changed it back into a guest room six months ago. It hurt too much to see the bedroom he and Harry had put together while Hermione was pregnant. There was a box of baby items that had been hidden in the closet for the very distant future. Most of the clothes and toys were probably too young for Hugo and Rose, but Ron found a few books, some blocks and stuffed animals that they might like for now.

Long after the pair was put done for a much needed nap, Ron took Hermione aside, explaining what he and Harry had found at the house.

"What kind of monster hurts their own children?" He asked. Furious tears burned in his eyes.

It was something he never could understand. He had learned at a young age that not all families were loving like his own. He had been there when Fred and George pulled the bars off of Harry's window. He had seen his best friend returned to him every year hardened and half-starved. He had felt useless back then. He couldn't do anything but wait every summer for Dumbledore to decide that Harry's blood protection had been properly replenished and that the Weasleys could bring him home.

He still felt useless. He spent the better part of his life putting monsters away in Azkaban. He just couldn't stop all of them from hurting innocent people. Innocent children.

It wasn't fair, he thought, that people like he and Hermione, who would love and cherish their children, struggled with infertility, while people like Hugo and Rose's parents got to have wonderful children, but didn't appreciate them. Didn't love them. Didn't even take care of them. Instead they turned their own wands on them.

"They're safe now, they're with us," Hermione said. She put a comforting hand on his cheek, her own brown eyes watering as she spoke. "We can't erase their past, but we'll make sure their future is better."

Hermione spent the rest of the afternoon reviewing child protection laws in the magical world. There was no missing the furious glint in her brown eyes.

xXxXx

"Rosie's hair is red. Hugo's eyes are blue. No matter what happens, I'll protect you." He heard Hermione softly recite, adapting the children's poem to suit her mood. Ron paused in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight before him.

Hugo was sleeping in the crib, his fist loosely holding a soft, blue blanket. Rose was asleep in the guest bed, the purple and yellow spotted hippogriff clutched protectively in her arms. He hadn't seen her go anywhere without it the entire week. Hermione was sitting in a rocking chair between the beds, a children's book still in hand and a faraway look in her eye. For a moment, it felt like he had found Hermione reading to their own two kids. Looks weren't everything, but he couldn't deny that Rose even looked like a Weasley with her hair.

It was beautiful and painful at the same time.

He hoped they could have a family like this one day. He hoped that Hugo and Rose would get loving parents one day too.

"I could never sleep as a child without a bedtime story. She seems to like them too," Hermione said, seeming to notice him leaning in the doorway. She gently smoothed the erratic curls that framed Rose's face. "She fights to stay awake and listen, I think, but she's always out by the third one."

The past week hadn't been easy on any of them. As Rose overcame her initial shyness, she started acting out. It had frazzled both of them to see her work herself into these horrible tantrums. She contorted herself, her face turned purple, she cried her eyes out and pounded her fists on the floor. Hermione had requested every book and every resource she could from the social worker, giving herself a crash education on child psychology.

Most of the time though, Rose was a very sweet, if painfully timid child. Hugo was a little easier to deal with, although he got very anxious and upset the moment Ron and Hermione both disappeared from his view. With time, and a lot of help, Ron hoped the pair of them would heal.

As if knowing where his thoughts had gone, Hermione sighed. "I hope their relatives are prepared, it's not going to be an easy road. Did the Ministry figure out who they're going to yet?"

"There's no immediate family who would be able to take them in," Ron sighed. "And once you start looking at third or fourth cousins, everyone's a little related, you know? They're hoping to find a foster family. Susan's going through her list of applicants."

He remembered the earlier conversation he had with Susan Macmillan, who worked at the Magical Children Office at the Ministry. He had stopped by to see what was going to happen to Hugo and Rose now that the judge had taken custody of the two children away from the parents. The cases were still being built against them and the trials and sentencing would taken a little while longer. At least they didn't have to worry that the judge would try to keep them with their biological parents any more. Blood and blood relatives still meant a lot to some witches and wizards, but the evidence had been too damning.

Rose's best option so far was an older couple who had already taken in four troubled boys. The youngest was six at the moment. The parents were experienced, and the mother really wanted a girl. When Ron had worried that six children was a lot to handle, especially when they all had such difficult lives already, he had been corrected that they would only be taking in Rose. A lot of couples wanted a baby since they wouldn't remember their birth parents. Hugo had a few more options as a result, but Susan was carefully vetting them to make sure they were up to the task of caring for an abused eighteen-month old.

"They're looking for a foster family?" Hermione asked, her back stiff. He couldn't quite read the expression on her face. "There's no grandparents or aunts or uncles or anyone?"

"The father's family were muggles and killed in the war. The mother's family disowned her for well, marrying a muggle-born, I suppose. And they're going to be spilt up," He said, making sure Hermione knew that important piece. He couldn't help but think of his own siblings and how it would have felt to be separated from them growing up. "I shouldn't - I mean, being spilt up to go to good homes is better than being kept together in a bad one, right?"

Hermione made a humming noise, drumming her fingers on the thin, picture book in her lap. She got a determined look on her face as she stood up, quickly walking out of the guest room. Ron hurried along behind her as she grabbed her handbag and an outer robe in the front closet.

"Where are you going?!"

"I just thought - well, I have an idea, but I'm not sure - " She rambled, before giving him a kiss on the cheek. "The Ministry's library. I need to check something first."

Ron rolled his eyes fondly. He should have known.

xXxXx

Hermione was dozing on the couch, a pile of books she had borrowed from the Ministry stacked up on the coffee table. A dozen colourful bookmarks were in each, and Ron suspected they were colour-coded according to some system like always. There were only three half-empty cups of coffee this time, but Ron knew that her sleeplessness these days came from two small children who didn't sleep through the night. He had been just as exhausted lately.

Hugo was sitting up in a playpen they had borrowed from Bill and Fleur, happily throwing colourful blocks around. Rose was quietly playing with some of Victoire and Dominique's old dolls.

They looked so peaceful.

"What are you doing there, Rosie?" He sat down on the floor next to her.

She didn't talk as much as Ron's nieces and nephews her age, seeming to stick with one or two word answers when possible. "Dolly," she said. She handed him the other one so he could play with her. It wasn't long before he had been roped into helping Rose braid the two dolls' hair and putting little bows on her stuffed hippogriff's head.

"Me?" Rose asked, sitting in front of him.

Ron gently brushed out Rose's red hair, careful not to pull too hard. He conjured a mirror when he was done and she admired his handiwork, a tiny smile on her usually serious face. "Pretty."

"Very. Pretty braids for a pretty Rose."

"I didn't know you were so talented at braids," Hermione sleepily told him. "Those look nice."

"Ginny was very demanding."

"Was?"

He let out a soft snort.

"I cancelled my appointment with Healer Alderton." Hermione quietly told him.

"I thought you were going to listen to what he had to say," Ron's mouth fell open.

They had waited months to get this appointment, and Hermione seemed to believe it was their best chance at reversing the curse and having their own children. Had the past two weeks stopped her from wanting kids? He was convinced more than ever that this was what he wanted. A sweet little daughter like Rose and a beautiful son like Hugo. Watching the way she interacted with the kids, he thought she wanted that too.

Hermione shook her head, her brown curls bouncing wildly with enthusiasm. "It doesn't matter now. We have our children. I think we've both known it for a while now. We just have to convince the MCO that we're the best parents for them."

"You mean - "

His heart caught in his throat, and he was unable to form the words. Of course. It was so obvious now, he didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Hugo and Rose had felt like their children because they were meant to be their children. Hermione was bloody brilliant.

She had that determined look in her eye again. "Yes, I've been reading up on adoption in the wizarding world – "