“It’s so hard, Ron,” Hermione said as she wept into Ron’s shoulder.

Ron stroked her back, trying to enfold her entirely in his grasp.  They lay side by side in the guest bed.  They couldn’t face sleeping in the master bedroom since it had happened.  The bed there was just too big.

Gently, he brushed her hair back from her face and placed a kiss to her temple.  “I know, Mione.  It’s hard for us all.”

The silence after that was broken only by Hermione’s sniffles and a child’s voice.

“Mama?”

Hermione flipped over within Ron’s arms.  Standing in the doorway, her eyes red-rimmed and too big in her face, was Elizabeth, Harry’s daughter.

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat.  In that moment, Elizabeth reminded her so much of how forlorn Harry must have looked as a child.  Harry wouldn’t have had the red-rimmed-from-crying eyes, but he would have had that lost expression on his face.

She patted the bed in front of her.  “Come here, Bess,” she said, snuggling closer to Ron to make room.

The little girl sobbed loudly and ran to the bed, jumping up onto the mattress.  She wiggled close enough to Hermione to make Hermione wonder if she wasn’t trying to burrow inside her skin.

Hermione gently combed her fingers through the little girl’s hair.  Her daughter with Harry was now four-and-a-half and she was four months pregnant with twins – probably Ron’s. She felt Ron reach around her to stroke Elizabeth’s hair.

Sniffling, Elizabeth took a shuddering breath and asked, “Is Daddy coming back?”

Hermione felt a shudder run through Ron, but tried to hold herself still.  “Of course he is, Bess.  Why do you ask?”

Elizabeth took a heaving breath, wiped her nose with her pyjama sleeve and replied, “Because...because...cuz Allison at school told me...told me...told me my Daddy’s dead!”  After finally getting that out, Elizabeth buried her face in Hermione’s chest and cried, her sobs wracking her body.

“Bloody hell,” Ron whispered in Hermione’s ear, softly so Elizabeth didn’t hear.  Hermione didn’t chastise him for his cursing because, in this instance, she felt the same way.

All Hermione could do was wrap her arms around her daughter, holding her close and trying not to break down herself.  She’d had her break down two months ago when Harry first disappeared.

She had just confirmed that her new pregnancy was twins.  The three of them were ecstatic about a new baby – or, new babies in this case.  Their first child, Elizabeth, would be just five when the twins were born and it was the age separation Hermione had wanted.

But then Harry had disappeared.  Ron and Hermione knew he was still alive because they were still connected with him through their shared curse scars, but he was gone in every other sense.  No one was sure if he’d been kidnapped or left of his own accord, but he’d disappeared from the changing room one night after a game.  Vanished.

And now people are telling lies to our daughter, Hermione said to herself, venom lacing her voice.  He’s not dead.  He can’t be dead.

Hermione pressed a kiss into Elizabeth’s hair.

“Papa?” Elizabeth’s voice quavered with the word.

Ron had to clear his throat before replying. “Yes, little one?”

“Will you save Daddy?”

Hermione heard Ron sniff hard before answering.  He looked big and tough, and was in his job, but he was mush when it came to children, especially his own.

“If I can find him, poppet, I will.”

Elizabeth shifted in Hermione’s arms and, one hand on either side of her mother’s face, gave Hermione a very direct look.  Elizabeth’s eyes were red-rimmed, her cheeks blotchy.  But, for all that, she looked like a small female version of Harry.

“Mama?” Hermione nodded, but didn’t say anything.  “Where is Daddy?”

“He’s lost, Bess.  He’s just lost.”