I can't quite remember how it started but, I think it was a slap. Yes, a slap, a slap that echoed, I still hear it faintly now. It's hum mocks me. It was late, well I was late coming home and Ronald was angry, not the "I'll pretend you don't exist for couple days" anger and we'll only talk till I'm begging for forgiveness, no this was new, this was a hot anger was being the youngest boy in the family, being Harry Potter's sidekick, it was a spark after losing at chess, quittage, and seen when talking about the war. I had know idea the fire storm in my husband's belly, how one day he went from being him to a being a dragon with a mask for everyone but me. If I'd known what I know now I would have been on time.

After that slap, we had silent agreement to pretended it didn't happen. Things were 'normal' shall we say for a while; we smiled together, we laughed together, we attended dinners together, we were the perfect couple. But (there is always a but) it started again, this time with little pushes and shoves. Little apologies like "sorry didn't see you", accompanied with it "didn't mean to's" all dripping with insincerity. I ignored it, it was Ronald after all and I loved him. And looking back, that may be why things got so out of hand, isn't that why things do. Shakespeare said "love is blind" well love made me blind and mute.

To be honest, I didn't mind the little stuff, yes it was annoying, but so what. I was Hermione Granger, I was the smartest witch of my age, I fought in a war, I help win said war, I could handle Ronald. No, what was really bad was the first punch, the smack of the skin like a bludger to a beater's bat. I knew it was a hit by definition: bring one's fisted hand into contact with someone quickly and forcefully shortly followed with a hard sharp pain, watering of eyes, tightening of chest and throat, and a impulse to react. But I didn't react. I should have but I didn't feel it, I stood there and took it.