Disclaimer: I own nothing, JKR owns everything you recognize.
This drabble was written for SomethingWithMitten's challenge on Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum titled Prompt & Post Challenge.
I had 72 hours to complete the three drabbles.
Pairing: Hermione/Ron
Prompt: Sacrifice
Genre: Angst/Romance?
This drabble does contain a mention of abuse. You have been warned.
Also, my title is inspired from the Christian celebration of Easter and Holy Week, FYI. I am Catholic myself so in no way, shape, or form am I trying to insult Christianity. Just thought I'd add that tiny disclaimer in. :)
Enjoy.
Word count: 573
Hogwarts, A Story
Good Friday
Isn't it true that the people who love you most also hurt you the most?
I'd always heard that saying, but never sincerely believed it until now. I grow sick at the thought. It's nauseating.
How can I still love a man who cannot even love himself? Who has become so dependent on alcohol that he doesn't even remember when he hits his own wife?
I do not like asking myself these questions. They burrow straight to my very core and sting my soul, like a Dementor's Kiss.
I toss and turn at night- I barely know when last I slept more than four hours. And the children- oh, they don't sleep well either. Rose is only three but she's aware something's not right. And Hugo is a restless baby, waking me with his shrieks during my few precious hours of rest. I- I try to comfort them, as best I can.
It was gradual, in the beginning. Fred died, you know. It was… painful. For myself, too, because I never realized how much I loved that idiot. And it was difficult to watch Ron just… empty out. I always thought he would get over it. A year after the war, Ron proposed. I was happy, I guess. I loved him. Pardon me, I love him.
I love him.
But something was always just a bit off. He began spending more time at work, and when he was home he was always brooding. I became pregnant with Rose- he seemed enlightened then. Like he had something to live for. She was born in May.
I was always so busy taking care of her. Ron was hardly at home. I assumed he just stayed late at the office, but his paycheck never seemed to reflect all his industrious hours.
Hugo was born in late September, and now with two kids I began pressing Ron a bit harder to help out. He would get furious and storm out of the house, swearing. I generally did not push the matter further.
But one day, Ron came home smelling strongly of alcohol. I had gotten whiffs of Firewhiskey on his breath before but I paid no mind. But this had gone too far, and the kids were in the room! I told him to get out, but he grabbed me and threw me to the floor. I was knocked unconscious and when I woke, he told me that I had fallen and bruised my head.
From then on, it became much more frequent. I began suffering from panic attacks and whenever I heard the door creak my blood would freeze in my veins.
Oh, he didn't know what he did, though! He wasn't in control. That wasn't the Ron that I married. The Ron that I married breaks down in the middle of the night, sobbing. He tells me how sorry he is that he drinks so much. He's promised to get better.
It's always a struggle of course. But that's our burden to bear.
Everyone's got to make sacrifices.
I need to make mine, for my husband and for my children. I love them all too much to surrender what is so obviously a mere fault of the flesh. He's a good man, Ron is. I'm the one who needs to be stronger.
*Click *
The last entry in Hermione Granger's therapy session tape at St. Mungo's before she was transferred to the Insane Ward.
A/N: I hope you liked it, and please review.
