It's coming down outside another lonely night.
You said you were just going out with your friends.

Hermione clutched her arms, her flimsy nightgown not enough to ward off the chill inside and out. She shivered and watched the rain pound the window, the drops skittering down the glass to puddle on the sill below. The orange lights on the street cast an ethereal glow upon the dark night and Hermione held herself together. It's nothing, he said he would be late… But she didn't think he meant four in the morning…

I'm waiting up this time I hope you didn't lie.

She shook her head. Stop being silly, he just went out for a night with the boys, she told herself. Why should she be angry about him wanting to spend a little time with his friends? He deserved it, he worked hard, he barely got time to see her let alone his friends. He'd never given her reason to think otherwise…

Or did he? What about the perfume, the quick notes saying he'd be late again? How many practices went until midnight? He blamed it on the weather, saying when it was coming down to hard they had to wait it out until they could see the balls again. And she believed him, didn't she?

It never used to be like this way back when.

Settling herself on the window seat she thought about when they'd first gotten together. She smiled when she remembered his nervous admission of his feelings after the mass funeral for those lost during the war. He had stuttered something terrible and she had laughed, just thrown back her head and rejoiced. Her arms found themselves around his neck and he had swung her around, just as he had on their wedding day or when she'd gotten the job with the Ministry. He had proposed right then and she had cried unabashedly, her hand shaking when he placed the old ring from his Aunt Muriel on her finger and promised he would buy her her own when he could afford it. Which he had, immediately after securing his position with the Chudley Cannons. They'd laughed together at how horridly his hair had clashed with his uniform the first day he tried it on and then he fell to one knee and proposed a second time, the ring, which now rested on her finger, glittering against the black velvet of the box. They had made love right after that, their first time. He had been so sweet and gentle and so hilariously distressed. They had laughed and loved and their wedding had been a huge affair, his brothers filling up the dais on his side, his sister and her girlfriends taking up the other end. He had allowed her to use lavender for their gowns and she had allowed his team to wear their uniforms to the event. She smiled now even thinking about how rudely they had stood out at the service next to everyone else dressed nicely; how they had clashed in every picture they were present. She looked up at the picture of their fist dance, thankfully one that was Chudley Cannon free, and sighed. It rested above their mantle and she loved the way they twirled slowly, his lips against her ear, whispering his undying love. He had taken her so sweetly that night, grumbling over the buttons which had ridden low down her back.

That had been then. Now, when they actually did make love, it was silent and anonymous. He rarely ever told her he loved her anymore and when he did it was rushed and rehearsed. He had stopped kissing her goodbye, stopped waking her in the morning with butterfly kisses across her cheek.

He'd stopped loving her.

I never know where you're at,
Another train off the tracks,
I don't wanna live like that, no.

He was gone more and more, staying out later, taking more trips with his team. She wondered vaguely how many trips they could possibly take in one year during their off season. He'd even stopped telling her where they were going. "Somewhere far, I don't remember. I'll owl you when we get there." Yet, he rarely ever did. When he went out with the "boys" he would come back smelling of liquor and cheap perfume, though he always said the owner of the bar made it smell like that because his missus forced him to. She knew it was a lie, but she figured dancing a flirting with bar girls was harmless enough.

Until he stopped coming home.

Her ears pricked when she heard a faint pop. She looked towards the apparition point and saw a tall figure ambling down the dark street. He had agreed to live in a quiet Muggle neighborhood and she's had an apparition point set up just down the street from their house, not even a block away. She watched as he drew closer, his features sharpening. She angled herself so she could watch as he fumbled for his keys, eventually dropping them and bending over to pick them up, cursing. She had made him use the keys since she didn't want the neighbors to see them using wands to enter their house every day. He finally found the right key and scraped it against the doorknob, eventually finding the keyhole and placing it in. He stumbled into the dark living room, unaware she was even there.

When you walked in so damn lat,
What the hell was I supposed to think?
When you've had too much to drink,
And you're really lookin' guilty.

"It's a bit late, don't you think?" she asked quietly. He jumped, whipping out his wand and pointing it at her. She stood, her knee like jelly and he lowered his wand.

"I told you I'd be out late," he slurred.

"I know you did. Just like you always say. 'I'll be late, don't wait up for me'. But I did this time," she walked over to him. She could smell it, the same smell every time.

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Out, just out," he answered vaguely. "Why are the lights off?"

"You're trying to change the subject. It really is a simple question, you know. Where tonight?"

"Just this bar me and Zeke found. Just havin' a good time, you know? What's with the inquisition?" he asked, a hand ruffling his wet hair, his eyes everywhere but on hers.

When you wouldn't even look at me,
There's only one thing it could be,
You were with her all this time.

"What's her name?"

"What?" his blue eyes bulged.

"Her name. I want to know the name of the woman who stole my husband from me."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about. I told you I was with Zeke-,"

"I talked to Zeke tonight. He was at home, with his wife, where he should be. Where you should be."

No more alibi's,
No more little lies.

"So what? So I decided to go out by myself? Big deal! I can't have a night alone?"

"Sure you can, you can have many nights alone. In fact, I'll give you a whole life's worth."

You've broken my trust and it can't be fixed.

"What? W-what are you t-talking about?" he said, stuttering as he had when he'd proposed. She smiled sadly.

Should've seen the signs,
Should've recognized,
The way your lips look like they'd been kissed.

"I'm talking about you coming home every night with lipstick on your neck. I'm talking about the perfume infested shirts I've been forced to wash. I'm talking about you not having to sneak around anymore."

"Hermione, you can't be serious-,"

"Oh, but I am."

When you walked in so damn late
What the hell was I supposed to think?
When you've had too much to drink,
And you're really lookin' guilty.
When you wouldn't even look at me,
There's only one thing it could be.
You were with her all this time,
Here's one last kiss goodbye.

She leaned up and kissed her husband softly on his wet cheek.

"Goodbye, Ronald."

Turning, she walked out the door to his incoherent protests. She walked down the street slowly, the rain skating down her face, soaking her, her feet sloshing in the puddles. She reached the apparition point and stood there for a moment, wondering where she could possibly go. She shook, and not just from the cold.

She'd left her husband.

How'd we end up like that?
Another train off the tracks.
It always hurts looking back now.

She thought about all the warning signs, all the things she should have caught onto so long ago. She had been blind and she felt brainless. Why did she always believe him? Why did she always let him go?

Why? Why did he feel he had to go to another woman? What was so wrong with her?

Closing her eyes she thought of the only place she could go now.

When she opened her eyes she was startled to see the room occupied.

"Well, well, well, Weasley. What have we here?"

Another lesson learned in life
And I keep asking myself why.

XOXO

Rynstar15