Marriage Therapy
by
BloodyBrilliantRuthie
Summary: Hermione finds herself in a loveless marriage and pursued by another. Sequel to Sex Therapy in the Dungeons. AU
PLEASE read Sex Therapy in the Dungeons first. Happy reading!
CHAPTER ONE
Sitting back on soft and supple leather, Hermione was taken by the immense comfort the chair offered. It seemed prudent, albeit inappropriate, to be concentrating on her physical comfort, but thinking of anything other than the bullshit her husband was dolling out just seemed more palatable. After all, she was never one to eat shit.
It seemed logical to have soft and comfortable chairs in one's office for patients to feel comfortable, as physical comfort is easily extended to psychological comfort. As a therapist herself, she knew that psychological comfort could lead to self-disclosure. Apparently, her husband was feeling very comfortable, because he was currently in the process of telling their therapist of his inability to please his wife because his father never loved his mother and he's internalized that void and translated it toward his wife.
He was so dead.
She thought about intervening on his behalf. After all, for therapy to work they have to be completely honest with the therapist. But, after her husband's current display of pop-psychology, she figured he would dig himself so deep that his bullshit would eventually choke him. He was effectively floating in a sea of self-denial. It was classic avoidance behavior, blaming others for one's choices. She only hoped that the plump gentleman with greasy, crisp-filled fingers seated opposite them would see her husband's crap for what it was.
"Mrs…" the rotund man began.
"Please, doctor, call me Hermione," she asked him for what seemed like the tenth time.
"Yes, of course, I apologize for reverting to the convenience of formalities. It is rather a hard habit to break." Hermione responded with a simple smile, one she knew stretched none-too-wide on her face, and definitely didn't reach her eyes.
"Hermione, how do you feel about what your husband is disclosing?" he asked, pen held firmly in his hand as it hovered over his crisp, lined paper. Precariously positioned, prepared to strike and blemish the page with his opinions of her life.
"Disclosing?" she asked horrified at his apparent ineptitude. "My husband, doctor, is doing nothing of the sort! He is effectively manipulating you into believing his sorry tale."
The doctor evidently learned one thing in school, as he only looked on, sweetly expecting her to continue without further prompting.
"Doctor," she said, with all the false sweetness she could muster, "my husband chooses not to please me. He chooses not to care about my sexual pleasure. He chooses to make love as fast as he can and then rolls over and feigns sleep."
"I don't feign sleep. I'm actually asleep. Making love to you leaves me fatigued."
"Remus, you don't make love to me."
"I love you darling. Of course I make love to you."
"I'm nothing more to you than a hole in the wall. You don't please me, Remus, because you don't try."
"Maybe I don't try because you're too busy fantasizing about being with someone else."
"What?"
"Hermione, don't make me say it."
"Say WHAT?" she challenged. "How dare you insinuate that I would want anyone other than you! You are my husband! I love you and I chose to spend my life with you! YOU, Remus J. Lupin, not anyone else!"
With a quirk of his brow, he gave her an uncharacteristic look of self-importance. "You talk in your sleep, my dear."
He teased, provoked, and challenged her with one simple sentence and held her undivided attention. Now, that was skill. Getting hit over the head with an anvil might not hurt as much as his unstated implication. Despite not knowing the truth of her own subconscious, she attempted to reign in her fears and put on a brave front.
He looked at her in an apparent search for some sort of confirmation to his unstated allegations, and with sadness in his eyes he turned away and made for the door.
She broke free from her trance and bolted out of her chair and seized his arm as he reached for the doorknob, preventing his departure. "I'm not paying this bloke two hundred pounds a session for you to run away!"
"Run away?" he asked in amazement. "How selfish do you think me? I'm leaving, my dear, so as to not embarrass you!"
"Say what you need to say, Remus. I can handle it. I'm a big witch."
"Witch?" asked the portly therapist.
Ignoring the inquiry, Remus goaded, "Maybe your memory would improve if I donned a wig."
Her world simply and effectively stopped. Her husband, in one solitary moment turned her world up on its head. She was in shock, of that she was sure. She wanted to respond. She knew he was waiting for her to respond, and that every second that ticked by was testament to his veracity. But how could she respond when she couldn't even breathe?
Was it possible? How could he know what her heart harbored when she wasn't even able to make sense of it?
Suddenly she felt strong hands holding her firmly and she looked up at her husband expecting to see fury in his eyes and instead he appeared to be probing, searching …
"No!" She freed herself from his grasp and covered her eyes to shield herself from potential invasion. She protected her mind for what felt like ages with no resistance or struggle. She bravely lowered her hands to find him wearing a painful expression. There was no other word for it; he appeared heartbroken.
"Legilimency? Is that what you really think of me?" He appeared tired and worn. "I would never violate anyone in that manner. Let alone the woman I love."
The third person in the room made a noise. "Legili–what?" the corpulent therapist asked, his triple chin jiggled as he angled his head in query.
Remus continued as if they were the only persons in the room, "Just what are you hiding, my wife?"
"Remus, I'm not hiding anything! Just say it, please! Stop playing games with me and say it!"
With apparent years' worth of frustration and jealousy, he bellowed, "Ronald Weasley!"
Mouth agape, she stared at him. Whether from relief that he'd guessed wrong, or just from astonishment at the name he said, she couldn't respond. She couldn't believe he was jealous of the ever puerile Ron. They were so mismatched for each other that Remus' jealousy bordered on the insane. Her husband was acting loony.
When her saliva returned, she was finally able to ask, "Ron?"
"Yes, Ron."
"Remus, you're crazy if you really believe that I could ever harbor any romantic feelings for him," she said gravely.
"I'm not crazy, witch, and I'm not stupid! I know!" he screamed. Spittle escaped his mouth adding to his attack on her person. "I know that Ron has feelings for you and I didn't think it mattered until, on our wedding day no less, I saw you snuggle him and you were both shameless."
"Snuggle? Remus, what do you mean, snuggle?"
"Snuggle – to hold, to caress!"
"You're insane…" she began, unable to find emotion with which to deliver her defense. "He's not a teddy bear. I hugged him. It was my wedding day. I hugged everyone." She followed the crumbs that lead toward the round man. "Doctor, he's insane."
"Mrs. Lupin, or shall I call you witch? You are both certifiably insane!"
His greasy hands dropped his coveted bag of crisps as he cowered in the face of two wands pointed at his pudgy face.
"After you, my dear," Remus said as he sheathed his wand.
"Obliviate!" Hermione intoned.
Remus opened his wallet and dropped two hundred pounds of Muggle currency onto the doctor's lap and extended his arm toward his wife, "Hermione, let's go home."
She held on, thankful that they had had another revealing session with this nice man.
Unfortunately for him, they all seem to end with an Obliviate.
To be continued…
A/N: Stay tuned, our favorite Slytherin will join us soon. Anyone stunned that she's married to Remus and not Severus? Please review!