Some would say vibrant, eccentric, full of life, and others would say boring, bland, and average. I would say, that Hermione Granger was an enigma. One day she could be the boring bookworm, and the next become a captivating woman. She was brilliant, in a matter of weeks she had organized the Ministry of Magic single-handedly.

I'd see her every morning in the elevator, she would be drinking her tea and I my cappuccino. We had become friends since school, we had buried the so-called hatchet. There weren't any conflicts over blood, as long as it was red, I was satisfied. We were both busy people, the only time we really spent together was in that elevator. In that elevator, we talked about Ron proposing, her cold-feet, and almost everything in-between. We talked about how I was fed up with the blonde airheads I had been dating, and how I was hoping to find my true love.

Hermione was surprised that Ron had proposed, she found it a little odd. They had only been dating for three months, and one morning after reading a letter Ron had proposed out of the blue, without a ring. Hermione was startled, she thought it was a joke. When she asked him if he was serious, it was more for herself than him. She couldn't digest it, he wanted to marry her?

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Ron had bought her a ring the next day, it wasn't what Hermione really wanted. Hermione being Hermione, didn't say anything about the crooked pear cut diamond. Hermione wasn't sure if she had found love with Ron. She didn't get butterflies in her stomach when he walked into the room, she didn't find herself giving in to his touch, or see herself spending the rest of her life with him. She was scared for the aftermath of the wedding, she wasn't sure if she wanted children. Ron, had grown up in a large family, and wanted to continue the tradition. Hermione, on the other hand was an only child. Her parents had planned to have another child, but after a miscarriage, her mother fell into depression. She was always crying, touching her stomach, and was usually found gripping Hermione's old baby blanket. Although after four long months, Hermione's mother overcame the depression.

This was Hermione's real fear. She was scared of having a miscarriage, being left alone and broken on the inside.

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I remember the day before the wedding, we talked in the elevator. I could see it in her eyes, she didn't really want to marry Ron. I think that she was scared to say no, scared of the aftermath that would arise from it, and just scared of the commitment. The next day I watched as she walked down the isle, her honey eyes filled with uncertainty. I watched as she set off for her honeymoon, and I also found myself watching her empty office every day. She was going to be gone for a month. It had been two days, and I found myself missing her presence. I also found it especially lonely inside the elevator.

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Meanwhile, on Hermione's honeymoon, everything was far from perfect. Ron hadn't said a word to her since arriving in Greece. She knew something was wrong, she wasn't dense. After the wedding, Hermione always dreamed of her husband carrying her bridal-style to their room. Ron, on the other hand, didn't even hold her hand. He wouldn't look her in the eye, he wouldn't kiss her, hug her, or make her feel even slightly human. She had been gone for less than a day, and she already missed her friends.

Ron was sitting at the bar in their villa, while Hermione sat on the bed still clad in her white wedding gown. Hermione decided that she should probably get ready for their wedding night. As she arose, she told Ron that she would be right back. She headed into their lavish washroom, and began to unzip her dress. It fell off of her body, she then proceeded to get ready. She unpinned her up-do, letting her shiny chestnut curls cascade down her back. Picking up her new maroon lace set, she looked hopeful, maybe something would go right.

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Draco had finished his third shot of whiskey, he was trying to clear his head. After staring at Hermione's office all day, he had decided that he needed to find a nice brunette for a quick shag. All had gone well, until the moment he came. The girl's name was Charlotte, which was quite different than the name he yelled. Yes, he had actually yelled Hermione. He didn't know that he harboured these feelings, but now everything was as clear as day. Hermione was Ron's, at this moment they were probably shagging like hippogriffs. She was gone, Little did he know, that he was far from the truth.

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Hermione had come out of the washroom, looking for Ronald. Well, Ronald was no where to be seen. It appeared that he had took off somewhere. "What a great start to a marriage." thought Hermione.

An hour and a half passed, and still no sign of Ron. Hermione had filled and painted her toe and finger nails, plucked her eyebrows, spritzed herself with perfume, read a magazine, and watched the a section of the news. Hermione was tired, as it was one in the morning. She slid under the silk covers and closed her eyes. Two hours later, a drunken Ron re-entered the hotel room. He too slid under the covers, and began to caress a sleeping Hermione. Hermione woke up, and turned toward Ron.

"Not now Ron, I'm tired." mumbled Hermione

"Hermione, it's always time, we're married now." responded Ron

Hermione said no once more, and tried to turn back around. Ron had a different grabbed her arm rather roughly, pulled her flush against him, and started placing slobbery kisses along her neck. She tried to push him away, but it seemed to only make his grip firmer. Soon, he pulled her flush against him, and she could feel his prominent excitement on her thigh. 

Hermione was scared, so she kicked Ron in the shin. He released his hold on her immediately. She tried to escape the bed, but Ron caught a handful of her hair. Ron threw her against the wall over and over again. Hermione was conscious the whole time, felt every blow and her wrist crack.