She took off running at full speed. Her legs were on fire and she relished the pain. Weeks of being cooped up in the house were driving her crazy. So were the memories. She hated those. They had gotten married right out of school. It was what they were supposed to do. Everyone had been asking when they were starting the planning. The newspapers went wild. They were on the front page from the day of the announcement of their wedding until they announced the impending divorce four months ago.
Five years. I gave him five of my best years and this is how I'm repaid? She growled as she pushed harder into her run. She knew her hair was going to be unmanageable when she circled back to her little cottage. She quit caring about how her hair looked weeks ago. She never left the house except to go running anyway. She ran more and more as the paperwork kept getting delayed.
I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley, he still hasn't signed a majority of the documents. The most we've been able to get him to sign is this portion right here. The lawyer gestured to several pages of prenuptial agreements that Ron had made her sign. Hermione sighed again when she left that day. It was like her soon-to-be-ex-husband couldn't decide if he wanted to get rid of her or not. A glance at the covers of Witch Weekly said he wanted her gone. The fact he refused to sign the divorce papers he asked for said he wanted her to stay, like she had always done. This time was going to be different. She had already signed all the necessary papers when he first asked her.
'Mione, look. It's that we never go out, you never look nice, and quite frankly, our sex life has died. Not that it was great to begin with…
Ron, where did you get that? I fell off my broom at practice today.
Ron, are you and Harry having a boys' night again? We had dinner reservations at seven.
Hermione felt the fire of tears behind her eyes again and began sprinting the last few meters to the front yard. She slammed the door and jumped up the stairs to have a long, hot shower.
An hour after her shower, Hermione wandered into the small kitchen. A wave of her wand brought down the necessary pots and pans for lasagna. Right as she started the water to boil, her fireplace jumped to life. Raising an eyebrow, Hermione knelt on the cushion and waited. Ginny Potter's face soon appeared in the flames.
"Hullo, 'Mione. How are you?" the always-cheerful Hollyhead Harpies Chaser smiled widely at her best friend.
"Hey, Gin. I'm alright. I had a run today. I took a new path today. Took me almost to the neighbor's property. That would've been interesting. I've been avoiding meeting most of them," Hermione couldn't resist a small smile at the energetic redhead. She missed Ginny and Harry. The two had been laying low at one of the properties Harry had inherited from Sirius since Ron and Hermione announced their divorce. They were the only two who knew the whole story.
"Excellent! Well, lucky for you your favorite best friend has made arrangements to come see you in exactly one week!" Ginny squealed. Hermione just stared at her friend.
"Oh lord, Gin! I'm going to have to stock my kitchen to feed an army! You and Harry both eat enough for four and little James can't be much better!" Hermione groaned. Mentally, the brunette witch was jumping for joy. She couldn't wait to catch up properly with her friends.
The witches finished their Floo call shortly after. Hermione strode back to the kitchen, intent on finishing her lasagna. She began to hum an old tune as she cooked. A quick gesture at her radio had it playing her favorite Weird Sisters CD. Hermione started to bob along to the beat, taking care not to burn her hand.
The Weird Sisters were the best to listen to when she was cooking. It was going to be lasagna tonight, Ron's favorite. Humming along to the tune and dancing, Hermione lost focus long enough to graze the top of her hand along the oven. She screamed in pain, doubling over. Clutching her hand, she Floo'd to St. Mungo's. The receptionist quickly sent her to the burn unit. The Healers were quick but it was nearly a third-degree burn. Several potions, spells, poultices, and hours later, Hermione stepped back through the Floo to see Ron, annoyed and holding burned lasagna. Even the bandages on her hand hadn't been enough to ease his annoyance and he left for the Leaky Cauldron shortly after.
Hermione pulled the lasagna out of the oven and dug in with relish. She hadn't made any since that night. Wrapping her leftovers she turned in for the night, praying the nightmares would stay away tonight.
She woke up gasping for air and covered in a cold sweat. Groaning, she glanced at her bedside clock. Groaning again at the red 1:15AM on its face, she threw off the blankets and changed into her running clothes. There was one more trail she had seen on her last run she wanted to explore.
Twenty long minutes later, she found the marker she left at the entrance. She turned and began a slow jog, studying the trees and the path. She was so lost in thought she didn't see the 6'2" figure barreling towards her from the other direction. With an audible exhale she hit the ground. Wincing, she stood up and turned to apologize to the wall she had apparently hit. Shock kept her from speaking as she caught sight of the Slytherin crest on the left side of a silver windbreaker and the shock of white-blonde hair being tossed out of the wall's startling silver eyes.
"Granger."
