Disclaimer- I don't own anything you recognize. It all belongs to JK Rowling.
Hello all! I know I've been away from writing for a dreadfully long time- I am so sorry! Real life, you know how it is shrug
I am currently working on something else, and Ill have it posted as soon as I finish getting it out of my head, and onto the computer. But for now, this little plot bunny bit me, and demanded to be satisfied!
For the record, I chose to leave the identity of 'The Man' unknown. Draco, Lucius, Severus (as long as you're not following DH) or some other man that we don't know of. This was written to the song "Pretty Girl", by Sugarcult, so if you have youtube, I highly recommend listening to it while you read.
Though anyone who reviews, I would love to hear who you think it would be, and why!
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It wasn't that Hermione didn't love her husband- quite the opposite; in fact she was really very fond of Ron Weasley. Of course, when one is talking about a bond that should ideally last for a lifetime and beyond; well, 'fond', indeed even 'very fond' aren't quite the describing words that you look for.
They had married very shortly after the war, a desperate attempt to reaffirm their own stability and existence. Of course, in retrospect, Hermione had come to the conclusion that (despite youth and extenuating circumstances) it had been an obvious mistake from the beginning.
Everyone had expected them to wed, and that, in her opinion, should have been the first warning sign. She had never in her life done things just to suit the general population- and she couldn't for the life of her come up with a suitable explanation of why she had chosen that particular moment to break that very good habit.
A quiet affair (or as quiet as any Weasley gathering ever is,) a few days to themselves in London, and then back to the daily grind of their lives. If Hermione had thought that being married would change things in their relationship- well, 'sadly mistaken' would not be far off the mark. In fact, despite their mutual affection, it quickly became clear to Hermione that this was most certainly not the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.
Gryffindor stubbornness prevented her fleeing, and the next few years were spent in wedded amicability. And if she had to do most of the thinking for her husband, or if she had taken to secretly reading historical romances in her free time- well, they were victimless crimes, weren't they?
And it certainly wasn't as though she was comparing him to other men, just that he didn't quite live up to what she wanted in her life. Charm and mystery, and any hair color then ginger- no, Hermione Granger (for she had remained adamant on the subject of changing her name,) was for all intents and purposes, the ideal working wife.
The problem was- she hated it. With a loathing that grew stronger with each and every day. The desire for a man that she could really talk to, someone who understood politics, or poetry- or, honestly, anything other then Quidditch!
So when the Wizarding Wireless managed to gain the publication rights to broadcast the trial of a former Death Eater (admittedly reformed,) Hermione was only too grateful to have something other then her sham of a marriage to focus on. Not that her husband was aware, no, Ron was still blissfully ignorant of his wife's desires.
The Daily Prophet went mad on the story, Reformed and Single, a Tell-All…And other headlines crowing the top of the front page, week after week. Piercing eyes that seemed to stare straight out of the photos and into her soul, hair that begged to be touched, and a body that she couldn't help but compare favorably to her husband's. His way with words that shot sparks of kindred electricity straight through to her heart- in short, a crush of epic proportions- fostered by a husband content to let the status quo remain.
Her work in the Ministry bringing her close to him on more then one occasion, her vocal chords paralyzed with nerves for the first time in her life. It wasn't as though they were strangers, but in this new light- it was impossible to view him with the same disdain she had before.
In the end, her decision was not based on one man or the other. Her logic had long since supplied her with the knowledge that if not this time, then the next, or possibly the next- but that this desire for men other then Ron would probably never subside. Leaving him seemed to be the kindest option. Knowing that he would make some woman a good husband- someone with less drive, less ambition- someone who was not Hermione Granger.
No, she needed the adrenaline rush, the excitement. Perhaps it was the calling to sow wilder oats then she knew she possessed- perhaps a true attraction to a man she had overlooked before. All she was certain of was that she didn't want to live the rest of her life in this passionless state- practically pining away for a touch that thrilled and excited her. A brood mare for the next generation of carrot topped terrors.
Ron didn't even notice when she packed her bags, complacent in the 'security' of their marriage. Hermione knew she would have the time to mourn later what she was about to do to him- that small comfort did nothing to assuage the pangs of guilt that stabbed her. But fleeing, running for a future that had freedom, and some other elusive quality she couldn't quite put her finger on.
Either way, it was a future.