(A/N: WOW I did NOT expect this would be so liked! O_O Thanks for all the reviews and PLZ PIMP THIS OUT I'M AN ATTENTION HORE LIKE THAT LOL

Also, I am very naughty and need a spanking because I forgot to thank my very lovely beta Raquelle for catching all of my mistakes in this chapter and the last :D)

Chapter 2

Ron's bellow reached her far before he did.

"Dinner better be ready, because I had an absolutely foul day."

You always have an absolutely foul day, Hermione though bitterly to herself. It's just your excuse for getting another drink.

With a quick flick of her wrist she removed the pot from the sink, dried it and set it on the table. Silverware, plates and glasses quickly flew out of their shelves and placed themselves neatly on the table. If there was one thing she could still be proud of in her sorry life, it was that she set an excellent table.

She untied her apron and went to the hallway to greet Ron. "I'm sorry to hear that. I made stew."

Even though his lips barely brushed her cheek, Hermione could still smell the alcohol on his breath. "That's nice. Is the gin ready?"

The gin. With a cold pang of horror she realized she forgot to set out the gin.

"I'll get it ready right away!" She said, her attempt at a cheerful voice ringing with nervousness, and tried to beat a retreat to the kitchen to get it out.

He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her back. "You mean it isn't?" his voice dangerously low.

"N-no! It just slipped my mind, it's nothing serious –"

The slap fell hard and sharp, stinging her cheek. "I've got enough shit to deal with at the office without having to come home to an airhead wife. That's just a warning to remind you for next time. And there better not be a next time."

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes…dear."

He let her go. "Better. Now let's see if you didn't forget dinner along with the gin." He continued to the kitchen, yelling "Children! Come and greet your father!"

Rose came slowly, reluctantly from the bedroom she shared with Hugo. She was dressed in a neat little skirt and blouse, her hair tied up in a bow. Ron looked at her approvingly.

"Nice to see your mother can do something properly after all." His brow darkened. "But where's your brother?"

Rose's eyes widened. "He – he was getting dressed when I left, Daddy."

Ron stepped closer to her, and she shrank back as he looked down from his enormous height. "And why isn't he dressed now?"

Rose's voice quavered. "I-I don't know, D-Daddy."

Ron grabbed her limp wrist and began to drag her back to the room. "Well, then let's go together and find out why your brother can't be on time for his own father –"

But his questions were answered when Hugo came running out, shirt hastily tucked in and wiping his hands dry on the seat of his pants. He stopped when he reached Ron, who now towered over him.

"Would you care to inform me why my own son would be late to greet his father?"

"I…I was taking care of a birdie, Daddy."

"A birdie?"

"Yes, it hit the bedroom window this morning after you left and fell in the windowbox but I could tell it was still breathing, so I brought it in and made it a little nest out of a shoebox and socks, and I know you don't like pets Daddy but please can't we keep him, he won't be a bother I promise –"

But Ron was already ignoring him, striding into the other room and slamming the door behind him. Hugo tried to run to the door, but Hermione grabbed him and held him close – whatever Ron did to the bird, it would be far better than what he would do to Hugo if he tried to interfere.

For a brief moment there was the sound of Ron shuffling through drawers and closets, followed by a brief pause.

Then a soft snap, like the breaking of a twig.

The door opened, and Ron strode out, a look of utter disgust on his face. He dropped the bird before Hugo, its broken neck causing the head to lie at a grotesque angle from the body.

Hermione chewed her lip, trying to fight back the tears of rage. It was a beautiful bird, its crested head a soft brown that gently faded into grey along the body, ending in a black tail tipped with yellow. It had matching black, white, and russet marks around its eyes and on the tips of its wings, the latter of which had spots of red and yellow so bright they almost looked like mistakes.

A small teardrop splashed on the carpet, falling from Hugo's eye. Rose had started crying long before, and now stood behind her mother, letting out as quiet sobs as she could manage.

Ron's face remained unchanged. "Pick that up and throw it in the fireplace immediately, then go wash your hands. And let that be a lesson to you before you think about bringing another filthy animal in this place." He looked around. "Because God knows it's filthy enough."

You coward, Hermione thought to herself. You foul, loathsome little cockroach, you kill the one thing in the house that could make that boy happy and now you stand there like you're the Goddamn reincarnation of Merlin…She thought back to a happier memory involving Ron and birds, and fought the urge to smile.

Hugo picked up the bird, tears streaming silently down his face as he struggled not to make a sound lest his father accuse him of "blubbering," and gently placed it in the fireplace.

Ron drew his wand. "Incendio."

Scarlet and orange flame suddenly sheathed the bird, and as she watched it burn away to a blackened skeleton Hermione imagined for one wild moment that it was actually a phoenix who would rise from the ashes, singing its beautiful song to drive Ron away into an unspeakable darkness and carrying her and the children away on its golden-red wings to some beautiful paradise, the way Harry had described Fawkes carrying away Dumbledore…

But at the thought of Harry, her throat closed up like a vise and she could barely breathe.

The fire had finally died down, leaving only charred lumps. Ron's face was now twisted into a smile that managed to be even more hideous than his disgust.

"Well done. Now go wash you hands we're going to have supper."

Dinner started off extremely quiet; the only noise heard was the loud sound of Ron as he chewed huge chunks of food and took gulp after gulp of the gin sitting next to him. The rest of the family sat silently, miserably staring at their plates, unable to touch their stews. To Hermione, the brown and grey stew sitting in front of her looked like vomit – appropriate enough, since she wanted more than anything to throw up, sick with the guilt that was wracking her body.

This was all her fault. She should have left him and taken the children when she had the chance. She should have gone somewhere – so what if she had nowhere to go and no money of her own, she was young, she still had the famous Granger smarts that had won her so many accolades at Hogwarts and had helped to defeat the Dark Lord. She could make it.

"What's the matter? Death in the family?" Ron chuckled at his joke, unaware of its stupidity. "I must say, Hermione, you managed to make food halfway right for once, though of course it can't compare to Mum's –"

"If you like you mother's food so much, why didn't you just stay with her?"

Ron stopped chewing. "What?"

"I said, if you liked your mother's food so much, why didn't you just stay with her?"

Hermione's rage had grown so livid that she barely felt the blow on her jaw; she continued to sit there, casting her smoldering glare at Ron who seemed utterly baffled at why she didn't yield this time.

"I don't know what you saw in me," she continued, unrelenting. "You never seem to think anything I do is good enough –"

"You're right," He said, rising out of her chair, apparently hoping to intimidate her with his height. "I don't know what I saw in you, you lazy, filthy, slut –"

"Don't you dare!" Hermione shouted, as she and her voice rose to meet him, "You have the audacity to call me lazy when I struggle night and day to keep this apartment clean, all in spite of your filth –"

Ron, reduced to sputtering incoherent rage, backed away, raising his arm in preparation for a haymaker, but Hermione was undeterred.

"And don't you dare call me a slut, don't pretend I don't know about you visiting those 'love hotels' or whatever they call whorehouses these days, I bit my tongue before but now I won't, I won't –"

Ron's fist swung, hitting her in the jaw and knocking her back on the kitchen floor. She scrambled to get up, sitting on her elbows and hatred bubbling inside her as she continued to scream.

"I don't know why I let you do this to me, but you won't do it any more, I'll take the kids and go far, far away from you, Wizard law be damned –"

Ron now walked forward, a horrible look of anger and disgust across his face – only to be knocked back as if by a punch in the gut.

Ordinarily, Hermione would have wondered how she was able to display such wandless magic. But now, she didn't care how it managed to manifest: all that mattered was that she could use it to get back everything he had ever done to her.

Magical blow after magical blow fell on Ron, twisting and turning him like he was some grotesque rag doll. He buffeted back and forth as invisible punches, kicks and jabs attacked his arms, his legs, and his torso. He howled in pain and fell over as one attack blew out his knees causing him to collapse.

Hermione was on her feet by this time, walking over to Ron. She watched in mute hatred as his face was reduced to a bloody pulp by the physical manifestation of her rage. Now it was time for the final blow.

Ron's mouth, swollen from the beating and filled with blood and teeth, began to emit sounds she supposed were words asking for mercy. Truth be told, his current moaning wasn't that much different from his speech in the past. She ignored him and turned her attention to the torso, imagining a mighty hand surrounding it and squeezing it like Ron had no doubt squeezed the bird…

No. Initially she had planned to squeeze him to death, breaking the ribs to pierce the lungs, letting him drown in his own blood. But now she had a better idea.

Maintaining her iron grip on the torso, Hermione brought Ron to a sitting position. Slowly, gently, she began to turn his head.

Tears, snot, blood and saliva made a runny mess down Ron's face as he sniveled, still trying to moan meaningless apologies. He eventually trailed off, unable to think of anything more, and there was a brief silence.

Then a loud snap, like the breaking of a branch.

Ron fell backward; his head twisted in a grotesque position. His body let out a few twitches as the last few synapses fired signals to dead muscle. Finally, he was still.

Hermione let out a gasp and nearly fell over herself. She had not realized how exhausted the process had made her. Then with a guilty start, she remembered her children.

She turned to them, as they huddled in a corner of the room, eyes wide. They had witnessed the whole thing, but it was too late to do anything about it now. If it troubled them too much she could Obliviate the memory from them later.

"Rosie, Hugo?"

"Yes, Mummy?"

"Get some clothes ready, we're going on a little trip."

Rose and Hugo dashed off to their room, while Hermione turned to the body. Disposal was far easier than she expected; a simple transfiguration into a piece of wood, placing it in the fireplace and lighting it on fire (appropriately enough), then an Evanseco to clear away the blood. She went into her own room and collected several clothes, shoes and toiletries into a bag, surprised by her own calm. Finally, she went into the children's room.

She had raised Rose and Hugo well, for they already had a suitcase back for the both of them, and looked up at her with shining eyes.

"Are we leaving now, Mommy?" Hugo asked.

"Yes." She replied

"Forever?"

She had to choke back a sob as she realized the full impact of what she had done.

"Yes." She said, getting down and embracing both of her children. "Forever."

She was unable to move for several minutes as she sat there hugging her children, who in their infant wisdom realized it was best to stand there and remain quiet. Finally, she pulled herself together.

"Let's go."

Quietly, to avoid disturbing the neighbors, Hermione lead the children through the apartment, down the hall and stairs, and out into the street.