Category: Harry Potter
Title: Feeling Like This
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: Fiction Rated: M
A/N: I'm really annoyed with my computer, which decided to delete my story from both my HD and the site, so I have been forced to repost chapter 1 from scratch. Especially I would like to thank slightsav and XxDarkFirexX for being so patient with me over all of this.
I don't usually write Charlie/Hermione fics, but I figure that fan fiction is there to play around with these characters' lives :D
Warnings: Mature content (language, relationships and not a little smut and fluff) Don't like, don't read.
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine; I'm just borrowing them to see what happens.
On with the fic! (Again)
"I mean, how could you, Ronald Weasley? How could you do something…like that, to me?" Hermione paced back and forth in front of her husband of three years, her hands gesticulating wildly and her wand, poking out from the pocket of her robes, sending angry red sparks into the air.
From his position cowering on the sofa, the sparks were flying too close for comfort above his messy red hair. His face was scowling as he leaned away from the screaming mad woman, but the shaking hands and bitten lip revealing his true feelings. He was utterly petrified of her, but somehow couldn't quite help biting back.
"It's not my fault if you decided to come home early-"
"How dare you blame me? What, "Oh, Hermione. Sorry if you happen to come home early from work to find me shagging some blonde tart, but really it's your fault for being here..."?"
"Her name is Amanda, and yes it is your fault!"
"How in Merlin's name do you work that out, Mr I-Can't-Keep-My-Penis-To-Myself-While-My-Wife's-At-Work?" Hermione stopped squarely in front of him, hands on hips, feet planted firmly into the carpet.
He'd had enough, and stood suddenly, trying to use his height to some advantage over his out of control wife.
"It's because you're not here most of the time that I decided to go out and meet somebody else! Have you ever thought that I might get a bit frustrated by myself whilst you're away on your week-long business trips? Of course not! All you ever think about is work!"
His wife stopped pacing and looked straight into his cool blue eyes with her dark, piercing ones.
"You're right. I never imagined that you would get frustrated- if you loved me like you said you did when you married me then you would understand how important my work is to me, and respect that!"
Hermione crossed to the fireplace and picked up two suitcases and her worn cat basket containing Crookshanks, before turning to face her husband for her parting jibe. She looked him up and down with obvious distaste, her nose wrinkled in revulsion against the two-timing, home-wrecking git that he was.
"Obviously, Ronald, I was wrong." And with that, she turned sharply on her heel and marched into the fireplace, cast a handful of green powder into the flame and yelled "The Burrow!"
The last thing he saw of her as she began to spin was the defiant, tear streaked face of the most beautiful girl he had ever known. She had gone.
Mr and Mrs Weasley were sitting in the kitchen, drinking bedtime cocoa and sharing a copy of The Daily Prophet at the table, both clad in night attire when she arrived in the sitting-room hearth.
"Good evening, Mr and Mrs Weasley."
Hermione stood in the doorway between sitting room and kitchen, a travel case in either hand and a cat-basket carrying Crookshanks under one arm.
Her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes and cheeks glistened with recent tears that were still tracking silently down her face.
The Weasley's turned, startled to see their daughter-in-law in their kitchen so late at night.
"Hermione, dear! What ever is the matter? Where's Ron?" Mrs Weasley rushed forwards to embrace the young woman and pat her consolingly on the back. Mr Weasley stood back, forehead creased anxiously as he noted both the tears and the suitcases still clasped tightly in Hermione's hands.
"What happened, love? Here, come and sit down..."
"Thanks, Molly. Arthur."
She nodded politely to the two and took her seat shakily, setting down the basket and cases as though only just realising they were still in her possession, and placed her hands together, twisting her rings agitatedly atop the kitchen table before reaching an inner decision and removing them all. She set them down on the table one by one.
"I want a divorce."
A/N: OK, so there you have it. Ooh the drama, I know. I'll try and post the next chapter quickly, but in the meantime, there is a very friendly looking blue button begging to be clicked... D