Many thanks to Jordi, Liza and Lizzy for reading through this.

Team: Montrose Magpies

Position: Keeper (Reserve)

Prompt: Write a dramatic story about the Weasley family

September Event: Yoga
Prompt: Intense Side Stretch Pose - Write about an intense situation

Word count: 1216

Warning: Physical abuse

A Rose By Any Other Name

Ron sat down at the dining room table, his head resting in his hands as he waited for Hermione to return from dropping Rose off at her Auntie Ginny and 'Uncle Harry's' house.

He had been in denial for too long. How could he have not seen it before?

All those 'innocent' touches across the table during family meals.

All those times he had walked into a room and they were a little closer than he would have liked.

All those times that Hermione rejected his advances in the bedroom.

And now he had a daughter that looked absolutely nothing like him, and only a little bit like his wife in small ways—Rose had her nose, and the same shaped eyes. But then there was the black hair and emerald green eyes—traits that a potion could only conceal for so long, and Rose could only have got them from one place, and it certainly wasn't from him or Hermione.

But the most telling thing of all, after that, was Rose's name; you only had to look at the history of the female names in the traitor's family to see a pattern emerging: his mother was called Lily, and his aunt was called Petunia, and Ron would gladly put money on his grandmother being named after a flower as well—she was probably called Rose too.

This knowledge brought a new perspective to the fact that Hermione had not been a virgin on their wedding night.

All he wanted to know now was: how long had she been playing him for a fool?

The quiet 'pop' coming from the hallway signaled that Hermione had returned home.

"Okay, Ronald, Rose is tucked up in bed at Harry and Ginny's house," Hermione said, walking into the kitchen. "Are you finally going to tell me why our daughter had to spend the night away from home?"

Ron glanced up at his loving wife and gave her a knowing smile.

"I thought she might like to spend the night at her father's house, for a change," Ron answered through gritted teeth, watching Hermione's face pale as he spoke.

"Ronald, what on earth are you talking about?" Hermione questioned.

"I'm talking about the fact that you and my so-called best friend have been at it like rabbits for the last Merlin knows how long."

Hermione let out a laugh. "You think me and Harry would—have you lost your mind?" she shrieked.

"No," Ron answered, standing up and slamming his hands on the tale in front of him. "In fact, for the first time, I am seeing everything with perfect clarity."

"Do you really think Harry and I would do that to you, and to Ginny?" Hermione asked. "Because if you do I think you seriously need to pay a visit to St Mungo's."

"I don't think you would, I know you would and have," Ron roared loudly. "Have you seen Rose? She looks like Harry. How do you explain that?"

"I—"

"Not to mention, every time I walk down the street with her, passers-by always, and I do mean always, think she is my niece because she is most certainly NOT a Weasley."

Hermione took a step back from her advancing husband, whose hands were balled into fists as though he was ready to hit something, or her.

"Don't you act like you're so innocent, Ronald," she answered, narrowing her eyes. "You think I haven't seen the way you stare at Fleur as though she is the only person in the room. You have NEVER looked at me like that. You ALWAYS make me feel second best. So I ask you, would it really come as a surprise if I looked elsewhere for attention when my own husband would rather be with his brother's wife?"

"At least she makes an effort to look like a girl," Ron retorted, reaching out and grabbing Hermione by the hair. "The last time you did that it was for Viktor. Don't think I haven't forgotten about that dalliance. Are you sleeping with him too?"

"Ron, get off, you're hurting me," Hermione pleaded, tears forming in her eyes.

"Not until you admit that you are nothing more than a filthy whore," he answered, pulling her hair so that her head was facing him.

Ron felt as though his blood was boiling as Hermione refused to answer him. Why wouldn't she just confess and then he could go back to loving her? Sure she was no Fleur, but she more than made up for it in other ways by doing all the housework and cooking meals that were almost as good as his mother's.

"Dammit, Hermione, confess!" Ron demanded. "How long have you and Harry been making me look like an idiot?"

Hermione snorted to herself as she thought about how he was more than capable of doing that without any help.

"HOW LONG?" he yelled, tightening his grip on her hair.

"On and off for years since the Horcrux hunt," Hermione admitted.

"And you still married me?" Ron asked, his grip on Hermione's hair loosening enough so that she could free herself from his grasp.

Hermione scrambled away from Ron and placed her hand inside her robes and grasped her wand, ready to fend him off if he attempted to manhandle her again.

"It was the biggest mistake of my life," Hermione answered. "I thought you'd changed into a man who could be relied upon, but you soon back-slided to a lazy, unambitious moron who doesn't pay attention to his wife! I have needs, Ron! Needs that Harry was more than happy to satisfy."

"And what about Ginny?" Ron asked, his cheeks burning red with anger. "Did either of you even stop to think about her at all?"

"Oh, Ronald," Hermione sighed. "She's been playing away with Dean and Seamus since Albus was born. And don't get me started on how much Albus looks like the Portree Seeker. Surely you've noticed."

Ron's mouth dropped open at this revelation.

"No, my sister is nothing like that!" Ron refuted, shaking his head. "It's you and him that are the liars and the cheats. Mum always said we should be careful of Muggles with their lack of family values."

"As if you Pureblood bigots are any better?" Hermione spat. "Face the facts, Ronald, you and your holier than thou family are no different to the Malfoys. A poorer, dumber, less attractive imitation of them."

Ron lunged towards Hermione and grabbed her hair again.

"Don't you ever compare me to a Malfoy again," Ron seethed through gritted teeth, throwing Hermione across the room.

She stumbled across the floor, smacking her head on the adjacent wall as she fell to the floor.

Hermione glared up at him from where she had fallen and placed her hand to her throbbing head.

"Thank you for proving you're an abusive arsehole, too," she snapped, looking at the crimson blood on her hand. "You can expect to hear from my divorce lawyer in a few days."

She drew her wand from her robe as she rose to her feet, knowing there was only one place she wanted to be—in Harry's arms. She spun on the spot and disapparated to the Potter household, fully aware there would be many questions to answer.