An interlude
December 27th, 2018
Granger-Weasley Residence, Godrics Hallow
Ron Weasley was at the end of his rope. His two children, his niece and nephews, along with his sister and a man he thought of as a younger cousin were stuck Merlin knows where (and when) in the past; meanwhile his best mate was practically useless out of concern for his family and his wife was struggling to remember details…he felt it was out of worry. Which left him, and his rattled nerves, as the member of the Trio that was best functioning. And he felt that it was limiting their chances at safely bringing home their missing family members; while his self-confidence and self-doubt had gotten better as time went on (especially once Hermione had actually learned what that horrid locket said before it was destroyed, her rant sill caused him to shudder), there were still moments where he it would drag itself to the surface.
Unfortunately, having his family trapped in a dangerous situation was one of those situations where he could do nothing but doubt himself.
They had spent hours trying to figure out a way to get them back to their correct time frame that they were in and where they were. So far all of the theory around time travel indicated that the person was transported to the same location at a different time; but there was one wild ass theory out there that allowed people to be transported to a location they wanted to visit at a set year they wanted to. Hermione had wanted to disregard that theory right off the bat; but he had to remind her that their situation involved a busted TimeTurner and this was undocumented territory. It would, ultimately, ill advised to disregard any theories…no matter how far out there they seemed.
At this moment, however, Ron’s focus was far from the situation their family had found itself in. Hermione’s issues with details and focus were so unlike her it was troubling him. It was nearing midnight and he had been unable to fall asleep as concern for his wife was running rampant. He went through every theory in his mind about what could be causing these problems but disregarded them all. In his sleep deprived and stress addled mind none of the clues fit any jinxes or curses that the former Auror could think of.
Before his thoughts good get too far down the rabbit hole, he felt his wife shift then stand up before she bolted into the bathroom. He got up to follow her and heard her retching into the toilet. This wasn’t the first time in the last few weeks he’d woken to her puking her guts out. And he was worried about what that meant, logic tended to go by the wayside when it came to the love of his life, especially since she had also had trouble with details and remembering things during that time frame. It was almost like…no, but that wasn’t possible they always used the charm and she took the monthly potion. Quickly, and quietly, he knelt beside his wife and pulled her hair back while she puked; once she was finished he conjured up a glass and filled it with water before handing it to her.
Once Hermione had rinsed out her mouth, they both went back to bed; neither of them fell into a particularly restful sleep.
***
December 28th, 2018
Ron heard his best mate come down the stairs a few hours later as he was making breakfast. When he turned around it was clear that Harry hadn’t slept a wink the last two nights, which was only going to make it harder to find a way to get their family back. If he wasn’t in nearly the same boat, or worried out of his gourd about ‘Mione, he’d have to have a conversation with the Chosen One. He plated up some toast before he handed it to Harry and was thanked with a grunt. That would have to do for the moment, he mused.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Hermione retching again from the master which caused Ron to bound up the steps two at a time. He vaguely was aware of Harry turning off the stove but he was more focused on reaching Hermione to make sure that she was okay. Once he reached the bathroom, Ron didn’t waste another moment before he held his sobbing wife who kept muttering “I don’t understand” to herself. To be honest, he didn’t understand either but he knew it would be better to keep that thought to himself; instead he decided to voice a thought that had been on floating around for the last week, “Love, I think it might be time for you to see a Healer and figure out what’s going on.”
He had honestly expected resistance, or an argument at least, but what Ronald Weasley got instead was a dry sob and a nod from the despondent witch in his lap. At this, he squeezed her gently as she laid her head on his shoulder. “I miss them so much,” She whispered. “And I can’t help but think that if I’d gone to a Healer sooner could this entire situation have been avoided? Would I have remembered the locking charms?”
“You can’t blame yourself,” suddenly an stray and humorous thought crossed his mind, “that’s Harry’s job.” The watery giggle was more than Ron could have hoped for at the moment, but it would do. Let’s go floo to St. Mongo’s love. Both the Weasley’s stood and headed out of the master towards the downstairs family room. Harry was waiting for them and nodded at them both. Without another word to each other, the three floo’d towards the wizarding hospital.
Once they arrived, the three were ushered to a private waiting room so that they wouldn’t be harassed; after the press had gotten past hospital security, during Dominique’s birth, and into the waiting room, the family of the Golden Trio was given extra privacy. It didn’t take long for a Healer to come and get Hermione, and (after a brief argument) she was taken to the room to be examined while her husband and brother were forced to wait for someone to come get them. This did not sit well with Ron which led to him pacing around the room like a wounded bull while Harry tried to calm him down.
Inevitable, the conversation shifted to the broken TimeTurner and their missing family members. As with their previous attempts to solve the problem, they kept coming back to the fact that they had absolutely no clue as to where and when they were. That had to be solved before they could figure out a way to get them back. The two wizards kept throwing ideas at each other to take their mind off of everything that was worrying them, each idea was more ridiculous than the last…that is until Ron suggest one of those ridiculous ideas that seemed less ridiculous as time passed. “Why don’t we send a talking patronus to one of the kids?” Harry looked at him incredulously, “Look, there are no other Rose or Hugo Granger-Weasley’s in the past so why not send one of them a patronus message? Then we can have them send one to…”
“Well…” Harry placed his head in his hand as he thought out the problem, “Could we have it sent to Victoire? Is there any other Victoire Weasley’s in your family tree?”
“Not that I know of…” Ron muttered under his breath, “Could this work? Or are we just this desperate?”
“Ohhh, probably a little of-“ But Harry never got to finish that sentence as there was a knock at the waiting room door. A harried looking wizard entered, his hair was mussed, and he refused to make eye contact with either of the room’s two occupants.
“Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Granger-Weasley would like to see you.” At this Ron jumped up, cast a look at Harry whom nodded, and followed this man to Hermione’s room. Their brilliant break through just a few moments ago became an afterthought as his worry over his wife’s health once again crashed down upon him. Before he realized it the harried Healer had stopped and gestured towards a closed door. With great trepidation he opened it.
Inside, Hermione’s gaze was rigidly fixed on the faux window on the opposite side of the room. She clearly didn’t notice her husband’s arrival. And this concerned Ron, what could be so bad that she was too focused on her thoughts to notice him. Slowly, he crept towards her bed before he sat down on it. At this, she finally turned to look at him, her eyes were faraway and she was rather stiff when he attempted to pull her into him so he could comfort her. “Mione, what’s going on?”
“Oh Ronald,” She cried out. “I’m pregnant.”