Author's Note: This prompt was graciously borrowed from Cheryk. Thank you again to the fabulous Mrs. Ren, without whom this ship would have sunk months ago. Secondly, there are several warnings: Mentions of spousal abuse, miscarriage, and the dirtiest words of all: "Ron Weasley". You have been forewarned. All rights belong to her Majesty of Harry Potter, J.K. Rowling. Enjoy the story!

Four Months Later

Harry Potter was sprawled out face down on the well worn leather sofa at his flat on the outskirts of Muggle London. The flat was nice, but well lived in with Quidditch gear scattered around the lounge. He was half asleep when the doorbell rang, startling him. He jumped up and rubbed his hands down his face to clear the sleep from his eyes, then snatched up his glasses from the metal and glass coffee table, putting them on.

He quickly picked up his wand from the matching side table and flicked it, silently cleaning the lounge in one go. The doorbell rang again and he hurried over to the door and peered through the peephole to find a pale Hermione. He flicked his wand again and allowed the door to open and reached out and gathered her into his arms. He squeezed her gently, but felt her flinch and quickly relinquished his hold on her. He stepped back into the room and she hesitantly followed him.

"Harry…I've nowhere to go. Would it be alright if I stayed with you awhile? My divorce was final two days ago and he kicked me out," she whispered, peering up at him with watery eyes.

"Of course you can, 'Mione," he replied easily. The young woman managed a wan smile for her best friend whom she trusted with her life.

She clutched her worn beaded bag closely— the same bag that had saved her life five years earlier as she shuffled further into the room. Harry sat her on the sofa and perched on the coffee table in front of her.

The witch glanced at him warily as she waited for him to speak. He cleared his throat twice before speaking.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you lost the last baby," he exhaled. "Ron is a git and I'm not thrilled with him. I know you loved him but he was a—"

He was cut off by a blur of chestnut being launched at him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed into his neck, the dam finally breaking.

"Oh, 'Mione," Harry sighed. He shifted, with her still in his lap, to the sofa and held her snugly, rubbing her back and whispering comforting things in her ear.


Hermione sat on the opposite end of the couch, her legs tucked neatly below her so she wouldn't take up so much space. He was already being so gracious to let her stay; Hermione didn't want to overstep in the smallest of matters.

Harry's eyes were dark, a bit calculating as he handed her a cup of tea. "Hermione—"

She swiftly cut him off, already knowing the words that were about to tumble from his lips. "How are you? I've scarcely had a chance to speak with you. How is the DMLE?"

"Fine," he said slowly, "but that's not important right now."

"Of course it's important!" Hermione admonished.

His eyes flickered behind the wire frames of his glasses, and Hermione knew there was no avoiding the hippogriff in the room. "I would say there are more important things to talk about, 'Mione."

She felt his gaze fall on her as she tucked stray pieces of hair behind her ears. Hermione set her cup on the table, hand shaking as the last several months played on repeat in her head. "Like what?" Hermione asked, her voice cracking and she had never felt smaller than she did then.

His eyes were unforgiving, but that anger wasn't for her. Not at all. "I'd like to hear about the last few months of your marriage if you'll tell me." Harry said evenly.

She sighed wearily and began speaking, "Things were wonderful up until six months ago, Harry. He had just gotten his promotion with the Chudley Cannons as you know, and things were better for us. He still blanched at the thought of me working, saying that, 'A man is supposed to provide for his wife'." At this, Harry rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything. "He wanted to celebrate the night he got his promotion, so he got piss drunk and...had his way with me, as he likes to put it," she acquiesced, shuddering again. Harry's eyes flickered with anger, but he kept silent still. "A few weeks later, I woke up one morning nauseated and kept my fingers crossed as I performed the spell and it was indeed positive. I was pregnant for the third time. I thought that the third time would be the charm and I could finally make him happy," she sighed.

She exhaled shakily and picked up the forgotten tea cup and took a sip of the now tepid tea. She sat the cup back down and managed to finish her word spiel.

"He was angry at the coach when he came home and decided to take it out on me. I tried to ask him what was wrong, to comfort him, but he didn't want to see me. I still tried, despite being told I wasn't wanted, and he shoved me into the corridor to get me out of his sight. He then locked me...he locked me in the corridor wardrobe that is immune to magic overnight without food," she said haltingly, "and he put a silencing spell on the room too. Thankfully the spell broke when he left the next morning and I banged on the door loud enough for my neighbour to get into the flat and let me out. I had to make up a lie about accidentally losing the key so they wouldn't get suspicious." She sniffled and exhaled, determined to finish.

Harry had had enough. He scooted down by her and touched her arm lightly. "'Mione, it's alright," he spoke softly, rubbing her arm gently. "You don't have to tell me everything. You are so brave and so strong, Hermione Jean. I know it wasn't easy to be married to that red-headed git, but you survived."

She nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. She gripped his hand tightly and continued recalling how horrible the last six months of her marriage had gone. "When he came home that afternoon, he apologised profusely and gave me the half dozen peach roses that he'd picked up at the corner flower stand and told me he loved me. He had done this before but I still got my hopes up that he was actually going to change this time around. I told him I was pregnant and he smiled a little, but then it went south that night. He got drunk again and hit me. I owled Molly the next day but she had already turned a blind eye to his abuse. Her only response was, 'My Ron isn't like that. He loves you, dear.' That was also the day I lost the...the baby. I floo'ed myself to St. Mungos and Pansy met me at the front desk like she knew what was coming. She took such wonderful care of me but I persuaded her not to notify Magical Welfare for Witches.

"Two weeks later, I received notification that papers for the divorce had been filed with the Marriage Registry Office. I was torn between relief and fear—relief because I was finally free from him, but fear because I had nowhere to turn…"she trailed off, looking away from him briefly, shame evident on her face.

"Hermione," he sang softly, "you know you can always turn to me. I am so sorry you had to go through that. I cannot imagine how you feel losing another— your third baby, but know that I am here for you, 'Mione. It's the least I can do after all you have done for me over the years." He kissed her forehead, eliciting another wan smile from her.

"Thanks, Harry," she whispered gratefully. Her eyes flickered to his lips and the sudden urge to kiss those lips overwhelmed her. His eyes flickered to hers, wondering what she was about to do. She swallowed hard and pressed her lips lightly to his, still overwhelmed at the sudden freedom she had to express how she felt about him. The movements startled him, but he didn't pull away. He hesitated briefly, then snaked his arms around her lower back and kissed her slowly so as not to scare her. A soft glow emanated between them, surrounding them in pale gold light, then disappeared as quickly as it came. The pair was oblivious to it, deeply engrossed in the soft, nipping kisses.

Harry finally broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her neck, evoking soft moans from the brunette's lips. He tugged gently at her curls before nestling his nose in her neck, breathless. She deftly wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head to his chest.

"Alright?" he queried. She nodded, relaxed in his embrace, finally feeling safe for the first time in two years. He smoothed her sleek curls, sinking back into the cushions with her snug in his arms.


A month later, Hermione met Pansy at the new cafe aptly named Witches' Brew in Diagon Alley. The moment Pansy sat down across the table from the curly-headed witch, she smirked, charistically like a blond-headed ferret from which the original smirk came. "Witch, what happened to you," she asked unabashedly. She sat her bag at her feet and gave the waiting waitress her order.

Hermione blushed a pretty pink, stalling. "Merlin, Pansy, have you been totally corrupted by the Ferret?" she asked, giggling.

Pansy snorted in an unladylike manner, but nodded in admission.

The waitress levitated their orders of tea and raspberry scones and sat the tray on the edge of the table, then walked away.

"Hermione, you know when he and I finally started to date that corruption was inevitable," she chided, waggling her eyebrows, eliciting another laugh from the witch across from her. "But enough about me. Tell me about this new bloke you've found, Hermione Jean! He's doing something for you, because you look great, and I mean that sincerely. Not just as your friend, but as your Healer also," she smiled genuinely, sipping her tea slowly.

"I—I don't have a new man, Pans," she spluttered, her blush deepening, almost choking on a bit of scone.

"Tosh, witch! Spill," the raven-haired witch demanded, eyes sparkling.

Hermione blew her hair away from her eyes, conceding. "Fine, you win," she rolled her eyes good naturedly. "It's actually Harry," she mumbled shyly.

"Harry?!" Pansy squawked. "Merlin, Hermione. I'm so happy for you! You deserve goodness after that pile of hippogriff dung you were married to for way too long."

"We are just friends, Pansy," she protested, taking a sip of tea.

"Nonsense," the other witch insisted, "you're healthier than you've been in years and you're actually smiling. Whatever you two are doing, keep doing it. And that's Healer's orders, as well as best friend's orders," she requested.

"We just kissed a month ago, Pansy," she half shrieked.

"Nonetheless, let him help you. You deserve him and he deserves you. Sort out your feelings for him, or don't. A good shag would do wonders for you," she winked conspiratorially. This caused the witch in question to blush crimson. Pansy cackled, but reached over and squeezed her hand gently. "I mean that with all sincerity," she acquiesced while trying not to laugh at her friend's demise.

"Alright, Pans. I'll try," she relented, smiling genuinely.

The witches said their goodbyes and Pansy Apparated away while Hermione chose to stroll back to Harry's flat since it was a rare sunny day in London. She felt rejuvenated after her outing with Pansy, the happiness evident on her face.


She still was dreadfully thin, but Harry cooked so well for her it would be no time at all until she was at a healthy weight again. He really took wonderful care of her, barely letting her lift a finger around the flat. Even when he was away, he made sure she was taken care of thanks to a sweet little house elf named Bluebell. Normally Hermione would have been opposed to having a house elf serve her, but Harry assured her that the little elf lived to serve and warned her good-naturedly not to try and free the elf.

She reached the block of flats where Harry's was and entered the lobby and made her way to his flat. She withdrew her wand from the sheath sewn into her pants and tapped the door three times and muttered the correct incantation to be let into the flat. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. "Harry, are you home?" She called out.

"In the kitchen," he returned cheerfully, causing her to smile.

She set her bag down in her usual spot by the sofa and made her way to the kitchen where the shirtless and well-toned wizard had his back to her, manning the stainless steel range as a wave of delectable scents assaulted her nose. Her cheeks flamed as she shamelessly ogled his muscular back, silently thanking Merlin for the view. When she realised what she was doing, she quickly shook herself to clear the thoughts, but still appreciated how fit he was. She walked around the butcher's block and pecked his cheek. "Smells delicious, whatever it is," she grinned, "because I'm famished even though I just had scones with Pansy."

"That's a good thing to hear because we're having Shepherd's pie," he chirped. He waved his wand to keep the temperatures under the burners steady and turned to face her after she was seated on a stool behind the butcher's block. He folded his arms, causing his biceps to flex, temporarily rendering the witch speechless.

"'Mione, you alright?" He teased.

She nodded, snapping her eyes back up to his. "Sorry, distracted," she murmured.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at her. "Want to tell me what's on that beautiful mind of yours? Or is that privileged information," he asked in the same teasing manner.

She sat up straighter and took a deep breath. "Pansy cornered me earlier and asked me what had changed. I told her that you had kissed me," she admitted, "but she was happy for me Harry, and I am truly happy with this arrangement. I know I tell you daily how thankful I am that you have been helping me but I have not felt this alive in ages."

He smiled kindly at her. "You don't have to keep thanking me, 'Mione. I am grateful that you came to me instead of going to the Weasleys," he grumped, scowling.

Her eyes widened, and he rushed over to her. "Mione, I'm not angry at you, you're safe here. I'm angry at that insufferable family who turned a blind eye to the abuse that you suffered at his hand." He kissed the top of her head, wrapping his arms around her. He felt her sink into his hold, and he stroked her back lightly.

She was vaguely aware of his warm skin against her face but she allowed herself to enjoy it, pushing negative thoughts out of her mind. She pressed a light kiss to the spot above his heart, blushing faintly.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

"You're welcome, Hermione. I wouldn't do this for just anyone, you know," he supplied, winking at her playfully. A myriad of mixed feelings rattled around in his brain and hers too, but they pushed them aside. He let go of her and stepped back to the range to finish the Shepherd's pie.

She waved her wand and opened the cabinet and levitated two plates and two glasses into place on the table nestled under a picture window at the opposite end of the kitchen. Using a wordless accio and guiding her wand through the air with a flourish, Hermione guided silverware, and napkins to the table. The fork almost struck Harry in the temple as she offered a weak smile as he stared at her, the corner of his lips twitching.

"Show-off," Harry teased. He was in a really good mood tonight and Hermione knew it was because of the successful mission earlier in the week.

He turned the burners off on the range and brought the pan over to the table and placed it on a tea towel that had been thoughtfully laid out. Hermione grinned at him and retrieved the pumpkin juice pitcher from the fridge. She sat it down on the table and allowed Harry to pull her chair out for her.

"Thank you," she grinned again at him. They ate in companionable silence with the occasional smattering of conversation. When they were finished, Harry cleared the dishes by hand and sent an exhausted Hermione off to bed.