Inspired by Christina Perri's 'I'm Only Human'. Apparently there's a policy against posting song lyrics within stories as it's not our own work therefore this oneshot is exactly the same but minus the lyrics. I am also aware that not everyone likes what I've done here. If that's the case I would still like to hear your opinions, good or bad.
Ron and Hermione had gotten married just two years after the war. After their impulsive kiss during the final war, Hermione had stayed with Ron believing it would be everything she had dreamed of during her Hogwarts years. She couldn't have been more wrong...
The first two years leading up to her marriage were blissful and enjoyable. She and Ron would go out for lovely meals, walks at sunset. They even bought a house together complete with a library. Everything was perfect. Just months after they married, Ron was offered the place of keeper at Chudley Cannons. He was ecstatic and obviously accepted and of course, Hermione was happy for him. However, with his new job came with new found fame. Not only was he a war hero, Ron was a famous quidditch player sought after by many. So as his fame grew so did his ego and in time gone was the lovely, romantic, caring Ron she knew and loved and in his place was this arrogant individual that she didn't know.
…
She kept quiet and went along with it. She smiled at his achievements and laughed at his poor jokes. She bit her tongue when he said something rude, something her Ron would have never said. There was even a time when she spent a weekend at her parents because he had kicked her out of their house so he could hold a quidditch celebration for him and his teammates. She stayed away until he told her she could come back. She did everything just like a good wife would.
…
It was yet another Friday night where Hermione was made up to be someone she was not. She was getting used to it by now. Being sat on the chair in the middle of her bedroom whilst hairdressers, make-up artists and stylists ran around her seeing if this colour of eye shadow would match the shoes she was wearing that night. It was all ridiculous and she didn't even want to know how much it cost. Apparently cost didn't matter however; Ron said that only the best could make her look good enough to attend such an event with him.
Tonight it was another ball come party. It would start off as a ball with some charitable meaning. For example, new training camps to encourage youngsters in disadvantage wizarding communities. Somehow, it always turned into a party where drinks would flow. Those attending would either leave having made their donation or join the quidditch players drinking the night away always ending in everyone drunk, feeling sorry for themselves and the charity cause forgotten. Hermione frequently made her leave once Ron had consumed his first eight drinks of the night. That was his tipping point and she didn't want to see what came next. Even though she was just there for a short while, she always had to look immaculate in order to be seen with Ron in public. It was all just ridiculous. She had to constantly tell herself that she could do this. She was strong and would do what needed to be done. She did everything just like a good wife would.
…
She'd had enough. There was only so much of Ronald and his ego she could take. He had just come home from the night before. He was still very much drunk. He had screamed and shouted; telling her so was useless and ugly, that he deserved someone better, someone prettier, and someone who would do as told. He didn't hang around long but he had done more than enough damage. She watched him stumble off to his study knowing he would be in there for a while. As she watched him leave she had made her decision. Hermione knew she was worth more. Running through to the bedroom they shared she grabbed a suitcase and started throwing everything in. Everything she owned; photos, clothes, make-up, books. Everything. She was sick of Ron. Hermione was tired of his attempts to lower her confidence, make her change her ways to become a stay at home wife but a trophy wife when they were out in public. She was sick of having the apron round her waist at home but being made up to look like someone else when she was draped on Ron's arm at all his silly, pointless quidditch conferences, parties and balls. This was not her and she was not standing for it any longer. Looking round at her suitcase to find it over flowing she cast many charms to make everything fit in and eventually make it small enough and light enough that it fit in her pocket.
She had a quick sweep round the house to make sure she had everything that was hers. She grabbed her wedding photo, left it next to the fridge, knowing he would see it there, scribbled a quick note and stuck it to the photo. She looked down at her wedding band and took it off. It wasn't a token of love. To Ron it was ownership and she was not something that could be owned. Placing down the ring next to the photo and grabbing her purse from the counter she strode from the house, locking behind her and posting her key through the door all without a second glance. She was free.