Lost

Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter. All of this belongs to J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Hello, everyone! I have decided to re-write, Lost because of the fact I loved the story line and I feel like I would love it even more if I could build on the characters more, change a few things here and there, and I could finish it, unlike the other! I lost motivation because I hated the way I took the story and I decided to start fresh.

Don't forget to review to let me know how it's going! Without further ado, here is Lost.

Chapter One

Jesus, Ron.

I checked my watch for the sixth time in less than four minutes. The little hands read back to me, 10:03 at night. I sat in the arm chair in our tiny apartment trying to read a magazine to keep my mind from Ron being over three hours late. I kept trying to think of other things that could have held him up this late, but my mind knew exactly why he is so late getting home

The lock to the front door began to jangle. I shot my head up immediately, setting down the magazine, and taking a deep breath as the door opened.

Ron looked like a disaster. His tie was askew, his shirt untucked, he had his jacket off in his hand dragging it behind him. His eyes were dark and dreary. He still managed to wear his crooked smile as he looked at me.

"'Mione! I missed you," Ron kicked the door shut, dropping his jacket to the floor, he stumbled his way to me.

I stood up as he made his way towards me. He threw his arms around me, sloppily left wet kisses all over my neck, the smell of Fire Whiskey was pungent.

"Oh, gosh, Ron. You really went out drinking again?" I questioned, even though I knew the answer before he even came home. I pushed him away. I could feel the disgust on my face as I scrunched my nose and he very obviously could tell as well.

Ron grunted, "Why do you have to ruin the mood?" Ron walked to the kitchen, opening the cabinet, pulling out the bottle of Fire Whiskey, unscrewing the cap.

"Don't you think you have had enough?" I spat back to him.

Ron clanked the glass onto the counter as he spoke, "I'm so tired of you complaining. There seems to always be something wrong." He poured himself a drink and took a swig of it, mumbling, "Always something…"

Another swig.

"You're so miserable, Hermione. Why don't you ever just go out and have fun?" He rolled his eyes.

Another swig.

"You know who knows how to have fun?" Ron smirked, "Hannah Abbott that's who."

"Neville's wife? Why is she so much fun, Ronald? Hm?" I felt it deep inside and tried to keep my face straight, but I knew what he was about to say.

Ron finished off his drink and slammed it on the counter as he stumbled to me. He started to get closer rather quickly so I started backing up and found myself against a wall with hands on both sides of me.

He leaned in, breathing in my ear, trying to nip at it. He groaned, "She was a really nice shag, 'Mione. She knows how to use that pretty mouth of hers." Ron smiled maliciously.

I pushed him off hard and tried to keep my calm, but the tears were welling up in my eyes quickly. I turned away, but Ron kept trying to make a mockery of me further, "Yeah, after the she closed up the pub, she just pressed her body against me. Oh, and did she feel good." Ron let out a loud laugh, "She kept telling me about how Neville wasn't doing it for her anymore and how was I to deny her of the real pleasure a man can give? So, I took her right there against the bar."

I couldn't stop myself. He was laughing and he had found the bottle again, this time just taking swigs of it, finishing it as he laughed. I formed this pit in my stomach that I couldn't described, it felt like pain, but while I couldn't feel anything at all. It was heart-wrenching and I wanted to scream, but all I managed to say was, "Get out right now, Ronald." I was cold and started throwing his things at him. His jacket, books, his empty Chinese containers he left laying out. I tried to stay calm, but I couldn't find the ability to calm down. I went to the corner of the room and threw his broomstick at him.

He began to yell, "What the blood hell is wrong with you, Hermione!? You're going to fucking bloody break something, if you keep up with that."

I stared at him, "That's all you care about, Ronald? Something breaking? Your bloody broomstick breaking? How about the fact that you just broke us," my voice cracked, "I will never forgive you for this, Ronald. I want you to leave. Right. Now."

Ron pinched the bridge of his nose, "Hermione, you're being so irrational, let's just go to bed. I'm exhausted, we will figure-," I cut him off.

"No. I do not want to figure this out. I am tired of waiting up every night for you to come home. I have been doing this for almost a year, Ron, and I put up with it because I love you. Don't you understand? I love you so much, I was willing to do anything you ever asked, but you couldn't do me the same courtesy? You betrayed me, you betrayed us. I can't do this anymore. It has been 5 years since the war and you still haven't managed to find an actual job to help with the bills. I am tired of making excuses, trying to reason you being like this, because frankly, I do not bloody know why." I took a deep breath, my hands were shaking, "I want you to go, Ron, and I do not want you to come back. I will pack your things for you and send them to your mother's. I don't want this anymore. I can't handle it. You broke part of me tonight and I can't forgive you."

I took a deep breath, "Please, do one thing for me for once and just leave." Tears stained my cheeks again.

"You don't mean that, 'Mione." Ron tried to move closer, but in response I pulled out my wand, stopping him in his tracks. I began to walk towards the bedroom.

"Please leave." I shut the bedroom door, locking it, and quickly putting up a charm to keep it locked. I slid down the door and brought my knees to my chest. I began to weep as I heard him pick up his keys and walk out the door. I felt weak and drained. I stumbled as I got up, rushing to the bathroom, and finding myself leaning over the toilet vomiting, trying to push out this pit that was lodged into my stomach. I flushed the toilet and turned on the faucet, splashing the cold water on my face, staring back at the person in the mirror I couldn't recognize. I spent the past year trying my hardest to fix a relationship I knew was broken, I tried convincing myself the relationship I yearned for years wasn't truly falling apart. I splashed more water on my face and turned off the faucet.

You're better than this.

I straightened myself and tried to collect myself. I walked back into the bedroom and fell onto the bed, trying to bring myself to not cry, but I gave in once more.

Tomorrow will be better. I will not cry tomorrow. Tomorrow will be different.

I finally rewarded myself with the sleep I so desperately needed.