"I cannot believe you just did that!" Hermione exclaimed, her cheeks glowing red.
"Would you stop having a go at me?" Ron countered back, and he raised his hand to grip his hair in frustration. "That's all you ever do."
"Well, Ronald, if you didn't make me so angry, maybe I wouldn't have to!" Hermione shouted.
"Me?" Ron shouted, his tone of voice becoming manic, "Me?" he repeated again and his blue eyes flashed, "Make you angry?"
"Yes, Ronald, you. You make me so angry." Hermione eyes slightly filled with salty tears and she stared at her husband in despair.
"Oh, don't try and emotionally blackmail me, Hermy," Ron screamed. "It won't work, not this time."
"Is this what this about?" Hermione asked shakily, shaking her head. "Viktor?"
"The name's Ron." Ron spat angrily and he marched to his living room door, flung it open and stomped out of room.
Hermione stood perfectly still and let tears of anger fall from her eyes and run down her face without trying to stem their flow. She couldn't do this anymore. It wasn't fair. She crossed the room and sat down in the nearest corner, near a large standing lamp. She bent her head down into her lap and covered it with her arms, rocking gently backwards and forwards.
A loud slamming noise made her look up and, upon seeing it was who had entered the room, she wiped her tears away with her fists.
"Why are you so jealous, Ron?" she asked the man. There was no anger in her voice, just a placid dullness.
"What?"
"Why is it that whenever we argue you have to bring up Viktor?"
"I didn't," Ron said through gritted teeth, "You did."
Hermione let at a cry of aggravation and ran her hands over her face and into her hand so it was pulled back tightly, exposing her forehead. "No, Ron, I didn't." she said calmly, letting her hands drop from her hair and onto the floor.
"Yes you did, you asked me if we were arguing about Viktor!"
Hermione choose her words carefully and when she spoke it was softly. "Yes but I only said that because you called me Hermy, like he used to."
"What, am I not allowed to call you that? Is that a right reserved just by Vicky?"
"I can't believe you sometimes, Ron."
"Yeah, well, I can't believe I married you." Ron said viciously, making every word seem like a knife to his own heart.
At this, Hermione visibly winced. She shook her head and opened her mouth as if to say something but no words came to her. She stared at the man she called her husband and made a soft choking noise. How could he say that to her? After all they'd been through? Suddenly she felt incredibly small, worthless. She burrowed into her corner and looked to the floor with wide eyes. No, no, no, he hadn't just said that.
She closed her eyes then opened them again and looked up to face him. The man who wished he'd never married her.
He looked incredibly shocked and confused. It was obvious he could not comprehend what he had just said. When their eyes met, he blinked and stepped back. What had he just done?
"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean that…" he trailed off.
"Really?" she asked him, her voice shaking. "Do you really wish you'd never married me?"
"I, I," he stuttered. "I don't know what -"
But she cut him off by wiping her fringe from her eyes fiercely and hysterically shouting, "You know what Ronald? I. Wish. I'd. Never. Married. You," she said the last word with such unadulterated venom she felt her jaw ache. She stood up quickly and realised she was breathing loudly. She ran to the door, opened it but looked back at Ron. Sensing Hermione's eyes on him, Ron turned to face her. Her eyebrows were jarred inwards and her mouth was parted. She was wearing a look of seething disgust mingled with pity and for some reason Ron was reminded of that one day she had looked more beautiful than any other.
He was late. How could he be late today of all days? He had hurried into the church, finding his place next to his black haired best man who wished him luck and gave him a white lily to insert into the top of his jacket. There he had stood for what seemed like an eternity before hearing familiar music and turning around. That was when he saw her. A beautiful mirage of shining sequins and beads. Her bushy hair had been slicked back into a tight bun with a few simple curls framing her face. She wore a shimmering white veil that led to the wooden floor, a veil that crowned the top of her head with tiny red and golden beads shaped into small spring flowers. Her dress was long; so long it hit the floor and carried on flowing. It was the colour of ebony and embroiled sequins dotted its length whilst the upper half clung to her body to reveal a small waist. She had looked so incredibly beautiful, walking down that aisle. Hope, promise and anticipation searing in her eyes, but, above all, he noticed, there was love, a deep love that told him not matter what, they would be together always. As she beamed at him, her face glowing, he knew one thing. He would never stop loving her.
He was awoken from his memories by a loud slamming sound. Hermione had stormed out of the room. He realised he had been standing there, eyes glazed over, his mouth open yet no words escaping their prison. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He could not deal with this, not today. Why did he have to mess everything up?
He raised his eyes to the ceiling and strained his ears. He could hear a faint banging noise, alerting him to the presence of his wife.
With a pop, he apparated to the second floor of his house. He was stood outside his bedroom door. The noise had disappeared but he knew this would be the room she would be in. He knocked gently on the door and entered the room.
The room was painted cream with thick deep purple curtains hanging in front of the large window on the far sidewall. The room was large so the king sized bed in the centre fit easily, leaving plenty of room for the oak wardrobe to the right. A small bedside table, complete with white lamp, was littered with books to the left and a large collage of photographs from various countries hung from the wall. The floor had been stripped back to its original state, the floorboards now varnished with fluffy rugs chucked on top of them to add comfort.
"Hi," he said quietly.
Hermione was sat down on the bed, wrapped up in the purple blanket that kept her warm at night. Her cheeks were stained with the paths of tears already cried and her hair was a tangled mess behind her ears. She was staring at the opposite wall to the bed she was sat on and when she spoke she continued to let her eyes bore into its plaster. "Hi."
Ron turned around and shut the door carefully then walked across the room to sit next to Hermione on their bed. "I didn't mean what I said, I was just angry."
When she didn't move or attempt to say anything, he continued. "I'm really sorry, I don't know why I said it…" he trailed off.
Hermione still did not make any movement to show she had understood what Ron had said. He reached out his hand and touched Hermione gently on the shoulder. She pulled away quickly as though scolded. Ron sighed and put his head in his hands. "I don't know what to do to make it better," his muffled voice said. He lifted his hands away from his face and put them in his lap. "Did you mean it? What you said?"
After a long pause, Hermione's eyes drifted downwards to the floor and she opened her mouth to speak. "It's not working, is it?" she asked quietly.
"What do you mean? It's just a little argument, don't say that."
"But that's just it." she said. "All we ever do is fight. I'm tired fighting all the time. I can't take it any more."
"What does that mean?" She expected Ron's voice to be angry, for him to take on that accusing tone he used whenever he felt she was in the wrong. However, Ron's voice was anything but that. It was alarmed, worried and frightened.
"I think, I think we should have a break from each other for a while." she choked out.
Ron's eyes darted to the side and back again, he felt them begin to fill with tears and he looked away, not wanting her to see him like this. "But, why?" he asked, not understanding why now, after so many years it was now she wanted to get away from him.
Hermione took his hand in hers and tried to smile. "I think we just need to have some time alone to think things over and decide what we're going to do."
"Decide on what?" Ron asked fearfully, taking his hand away from hers.
"Decide on whether we want to stay together,"
"But I already know the answer to that," he said, sounding like a small child whose favourite toy had just been taken away.
"You said you wished you'd never married me, you wouldn't say something like that unless you meant it," she reasoned.
"Please, Hermione. Please don't go." he begged.
"Ron, I think it's for the best," she said slowly.
"The best for who? For you?"
"Ron?" she asked him. "Can you do be a favour?"
He nodded.
"Look inside your heart, look deep down and tell me if you truly love me,"
"I know I -"
She cut him off. "Please," she said, her eyes pleading with him.
He stared down at the floor then looked back up at her, his eyes shining with flecks of tears. He shook his head.
She made a choking noise, took a large intake of breath and smiled sadly. She stood up, nodded her head and walked to the old oak wardrobe on her right. She opened its heavy door with an ornate golden key placed in the keyhole and drew out a large bag, crammed with some of her things. She swung the back onto her shoulders, walked around the bed to Ron and kissed him on the cheek. He grabbed out for her hand and looked helplessly into her eyes. Like his, they were scattered with tears although, as he looked closer, he saw something he had never seen in her eyes before. Pain. He let go of her hand and looked down, ready to let the love of his life leave him, for how long he did not know but he did know one thing. He would never forget her.
She looked at him, a snapshot of time she would never loose to memory loss. Her fallen solider, the first man she had given her full heart to. Except, she thought as she walked away, he was no longer hers and probably hadn't been for quite a while. That thought made her think and suddenly she realised how lonely she would be.
Ron looked up. "Hermione?" he asked.
She lifted her head up slightly. "Yes?"
"Don't look back."
She nodded her head and opened the bedroom door before stepping out onto a new path. A path she knew would not be easy but would eventually lead her to where she wanted to be.
A/N: My first attempt at Ron/Hermione angst.
What do you think? Don't hate me!