Author's Note: Hi everyone! here's the next chapter of the story. I really hope you'll like it!

- I'm so happy for the so many hits this story has and thanks for the few reviews this story has so far received. But I still want more reviews, so I would know if I should go on with this story, and also which is your opinion about it.

Alquimista: Don't worry, I hadn't even thought for a mere second about that prospect. I think it would be too 'un-Hermione-ish' or something...! And I hope the next chapters will reach your and everyone else's expectations as well.

Now, I'll let you read. Enjoy! :)

Healer's Wounds

~Unstoppable Bleeding~

1, 5 Month Later.

Ron Weasley went home very late after an exhausting day at work. He had been doing this very same thing every single day for over a month; now he wasn't able to survive with any other way but following this routine of his and doing nothing more or less than it: he would go to work really early, he would work without a single break, wearing himself out in a steady, yet really painful, way; he wouldn't have any breakfast or lunch at work, nothing but the half mug of black coffee he would sometimes drink because of his 'controllers'' force, so he would throw it up later. And late at the evening, when almost everyone had go back at their homes, he would cast a locking and a silencing charm on his office, so he would be able to unleash his unbending pain and torturous feelings without anyone knowing. He would scream and cry and sob and plea with fear for some mercy to the invisible creatures only he could see and be frightened by them; he would drink strong alcohol and sometimes, if he was terribly forced to do so, he would beat himself merciless, provoking even more pain and bleeding. That would last for an eternity that was actually some hours, and then he would throw up again, before healing himself a bit so he wouldn't raise any suspicions and he would go back home, just to find a worried Hermione there, who wanted to help him, but the forces inside him were warning him every single time that he would suffer more the next time, if he would accept those kind offers of hers.

He was just a hostage of his own life, a fearful hostage of his untamed sentiments…

So a Friday night, like any other day, he would go back home with the sorrow and the pure depression apparent in his soul- if he was able to feel mild emotions like these, probably his 'controllers' must have gone for a few hours. When he reached the living room, he saw his wife reading a book, but her attention was focused on her husband when she noticed his lean figure.

"You're late again." She said with a hint of worry her voice always carried these past weeks.

"I told you that we are extremely busy these days." he commented emotionlessly and glanced quickly at her before his head was slightly dropped again. He couldn't look at her for very long, otherwise he would be blind a second later- it was like he had been working in a coal mine for ages and then he was told to look at the brightly beamish sun; it was something totally unobtainable. Even though she was his sun, he couldn't look at her for very long and straight in the eye, because if he tried to do so, his eyes would be eternally burnt.

"Well, do you want me to make you some dinner?" she asked a few seconds later. He shook his head slowly.

"No, I don't feel hungry, actually." Then he caught the slight anger that was lit in her face and he searched his mind for a convincing lie he didn't use that often. "I ate at work just few hours ago." She looked somewhat relieved by his answer and smiled lovingly at him.

"Ok then." She said quite happily. Then Ron noticed a quite unsure expression on her face and he was sure that she was thinking if she should say something to him or not.

Probably she thought to give it a try, 'cause he saw that her lips were parted slowly.

"Do you want… eh… to sit here with me?" she asked shyly and Ron remembered that even at their first date, they weren't so coy and unsure with each other. He felt horrible that he had ruined their relationship at this rate- because it was obvious that their wedding wasn't as rosy as it used to be once upon a time. And he was absolutely sure this didn't pass unnoticed to his wife- as she was so intelligent- , but probably she couldn't put a finger on which were the reasons why their marriage had this sudden twist. It was just like someone or something had blown out the spark there was once between them, but she couldn't find out the guilty party. On the other hand, Ron Weasley knew him very well.

"I'm tired- maybe we can do this another time; there would be plenty of chances" he told her, but this was like every time she had asked him something like this; he managed to turn down every single chance she would give him for some chattering, and postpone the date of this horrifying event for him. But he assumed that there would be no more cancelling, the moment he glanced through his eyelashes at his wife, and saw the slight desperation and the want for some contact, not particularly physical, all over her face.

"Please, Ronnie, every time I ask you to sit with me, you say you feel tired. Just please, sit with me and we can talk some; I can also rub your back if you want me to- it always relaxes you." she whined and pouted slightly her bottom lip. She knew what she was doing, of course: these were usually the 'weapons' she used on him, whenever she wanted him to do her some kind of favor. Even when Ron was at this dreadful state, he couldn't resist her when she called him 'Ronnie' and pouted her lips like that. Without actually realizing it, after a short moment, he was sitting next to her and looking towards her. She smiled brightly.

"Thank you darling…" she whispered lovingly and threw him a look full of adoration. When he noticed her look, he blinked furiously, to hold back the tears from his eyes, and he swallowed hard the scream that was coming fast from the depths of his chest.

"No problem" he choked out; it was difficult for him to speak to Hermione and trying to prevent this stubborn scream coming to the surface at the same time. "So, what do you want us to talk about?" he continued, when he was able to speak again without these annoying distractions teasing him, and then he noticed that his voice sounded a bit disturbing.

"Oh!" Hermione seemed to catch this particular tone of his and probably she started feeling nervous. "Eh… Well, I just thought that we could talk about things, you know…" she murmured nervously and she looked at her hands that were resting on her lap.

Ron took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "What sort of things?" he asked quite impatiently. This made Hermione even more nervous, like she was an insecure, teenage school-girl again.

"I-I don't know…" she stammered slightly. 'She's so cute when she does that…' Ron thought, but then he imaginarily smacked himself on the head. 'Shut up, Weasley! How dare you think about her like that; like nothing's wrong, like you're the happy couple you used to be?' His 'disapproving' thoughts were forgotten when he heard Hermione speaking again: "We can talk for whatever topic you want."

Ron thought about it for a minute. "I can't think of any." he said indifferently. They were in an uncomfortable silence then, which lasted for some long minutes.

"I have been thinking for a topic for a while." she mumbled unsurely and her cheeks had a warm pink colour on them now.

"Really?" he tried to sound a bit eager about it instead of showing his permanent sorrow. "And what is that?"

"Well… do you remember Halloween?" she asked shyly. When she looked the confused look on her husband's tired face, she started to explain. "On Halloween, we started a conversation after dinner, and you said about how much you love sweets, and then I joked that I hoped our children wouldn't inherited your appetite… and then we talked about… children…" she whispered the last one; Ron had heard her clearly, though… He just couldn't believe that this topic was up now, but it was natural to come up, sooner or later. But Ron knew that other than that, Hermione was thinking about another thing as well, the one that goes together with children and making a family: sex.

After the terrible event at Alfred's house, Ron was very careful around his wife, as regards any physical contact. He didn't touch her almost at all- he dodged as much contact with her as possible, and only a few times he would just caress for a second her hand with his fingers or kiss her hair softly, so she wouldn't get really suspicious. Of course she craved more attention from him (they were used to any kind of physical contact in huge doses every day), and she was actually quite disappointed and full of puzzlement every time she tried to do something with him and he only replied with a wide variety of excuses such as: 'I've got a massive headache', 'Sorry, but I can't even feel my legs from exhaustion, darling' or 'I'm not in the mood today'. She would whine for a second or offer him a hot bath and a back rub, just to convince herself that she hadn't lost this sort of 'battle' yet, but he would just say goodnight, go quickly to their bedroom and pretend he's asleep, until he was sure his wife was sleeping (of course, one of his tortures was the sleepless, long nights he had to stay in bed and listening to non-existent whispering that made him shiver.).

On the other hand, he didn't crave any attention from his wife- not that he had lost any interest in her, he just couldn't do it; it was like making the already big hole he had made, even bigger; like he was cheating her once again, even though he was with her. He couldn't take out of his mind the thought that if he did something like that with her, something so simple and full of love and adoration, he would just do something really stupid that would have terrible consequences. He just felt it was abnormal and impossible for him to participate in such affectionate activities anymore. Besides, there was and the other, huge factor that forced him to stay out from such moments of pure love and adoration, things he wasn't able to possess and handle: the something and his internal wounds would warn him and threaten him every time Hermione was trying to lead things to something more erotic and he didn't seem to protest. He remembered with a tightness in his stomach, the one time he gave in and kissed her back softly, when she started kissing his jaw line and after a minute, she reached his full lips and kissed them lovingly. The whole sensation was sweet and kind of powerful, and he had thought for a mere minute to coax her mouth open and deepen the kiss, but instantly, horrible warnings emerged into his head and ordered him to stop immediately, or he would be punished even worse. A second later, he pulled away from her and told her lamely that he was going to brush his teeth and call it a day, leaving her utterly confused with his weird behavior. Needless to say, next morning there was more beating and bleeding for him…

These trains of horrible thoughts of his stopped immediately when Hermione spoke again with a slightly worrying look apparent on her face; he probably was in so deep thought that he hadn't spoken at her for all this time.

"Do you remember?" she asked unsurely; the lack of any comment or reply from his side, made her nervous again. He nodded once.

"I think so…" he said carefully and waited for a response. When it didn't come, he spoke again. "What about it?" he asked gently, even though he knew the answer.

"You know, Ron, I have been thinking lately about things… and I've been thinking about us… making a family..?" she asked him like she didn't know her own thoughts.

Ron raised his eyebrows, wanting to show his, actually non-existent, confusion. "I think that's normal, Hermione." He said casually. Her eyes widened with astonishment.

"You really think so?" she asked him happily. Ron felt sadness as he knew that he had to slap her down. He nodded rather vigorously.

"Of course, Hermione, it's really normal. Every woman your age hears her 'biological clock' and she starts to feel the need to be a mother and make a family, especially if she's already married. Even men sometimes have the urge to become fathers, with such the same eagerness as women do." He explained casually and slightly professionally. Her face slightly fell.

"Oh." She just said and then talked again rather hopefully "Then, you mean that you… like every man our age… you have this need?"

He looked at her apologetically, without pretending this time "I'm so sorry, Mione, but I don't believe that we are ready to have children just yet. We are really young and I'm afraid of causing you so much physical pain- I don't think that your body is fully ready to cope with carrying a baby and giving birth." he said the lies one after the other, just to show her that he had tenable arguments over his statement. "And to answer to your question straightly, I don't think I have such needs yet- I probably give priorities over my work and you." He finally said the big lie and something teased him at the bottom of his stomach. Of course this was a lie; he wanted to have children with Hermione for so long- he absolutely felt the need to be a father and play with his little baby and take care of them. He was the one who started talking about babies and family on Halloween, for Merlin's sake! But right now, he didn't have another option: he had to pretend he was indifferent with the whole idea and it didn't actually occur to him. That would be ok… for now, at least…

"Oh" Hermione repeated and once again, she looked, with a quite hurt expression on her face, at her lap. "That's alright, I guess… I mean, you're a healer- you know what is right to do with it…"

"Exactly, Mione." He tried to sound reassuring instead of hurt as well- just for her sake (if that could be possible…). "Do you want to talk about something else, sweetie?" he continued and said the pet name he used to tell her at happier times. Hearing it, Hermione seemed to feel loads better.

"No, it's ok; besides you feel tired, you should go to bed, love, and I could rub your back if you want me to… take your stress away…"

"Nah, I'll be alright, I'll just go to bed." he said calmly and stood up. "Goodnight, Mione" he whispered and did something totally out of him: he pecked her gently on the lips. She blushed a bit and her eyes were shining with love. At first he felt… nice, but a second later, sorrow and depression overshadowed this bright, small feeling inside him. He tried with toil to give her a tiny smile.

"Goodnight, love. Don't wait for me, ok? I'll have to read some forms for work before I come to bed, and I'll probably be a bit late; don't lose your rest because of me." She said sweetly and then he wanted to laugh hard, for the very first time since the incident at Alfred's place; there was no way she being the reason of his lack of rest- there were way more distracting things to make him lose his entire rest than her… He just nodded to show his understanding and he started heading towards the stairs were leading to their bedroom. When he finally reached the room and closed the door behind him, he exhaled all the air out of his lungs and took a big breath, so a mere quantity of oxygen would reach his brain and as a result, he would think a bit more clearly, after this utterly depressing discussion for him.

He wore his pajamas and lay on the bed, with his back facing the door. As he was looking, without realizing it, the empty wall before him, he started thinking again- this new habit of his that he couldn't stand living without it now. It wasn't actually the fact that he liked this new 'pastime'; it was just that he was too deep in all these, that he sort of had to analyze everything he did or said, especially when he was around Hermione. He had to plan every movement of his, even the way he had to grab his mug of coffee with his hands, so it would seem familiar and the way Ron was supposed to do it, especially in front of his wife. Yes, your guesses are right; he was in so much pain and so over control that most of his actions and movements he did every day, like filling out forms and drinking a few sips of coffee or waving to a co-worker and walking down a hallway, were almost mechanically done. But any other sort of activities of his had to be carefully planned, before they could be performed with some success. This was how Ron could function at the time- mostly with control, force, warnings, threats, pain, guilt, more guilt and countless amounts of miserable thinking. This was him now actually, and he didn't have any problem to admit this to himself; his 'controllers' had made sure to make him believe that he was worthy of this awful fate, that every blow he received was just what he was worthy to receive and nothing better than that… And he took them all, every blow, every punishment, every insult, without a single protest, without a single fight. And now, even if he, deep down, had a trace of desire for some relief, for some freedom, he wasn't able to stand against his 'controllers' and fight them; he was weak and unable to think with the passion and the power Ron Weasley once held inside him. Now he was just a man who was being controlled by forceful and merciless emotions, his untamed emotions…

He heard after some long moments, the door opening and someone coming in the room. He immediately clenched his eyes and he tried to make his breathing more steady and deep, so Hermione would wrongly assume that he was already asleep. He heard her while she was changing her clothes and sensed her when she lay next to him. He suddenly felt her leaning down to him, and he tried to stay still. He felt her hot breaths hit his skin and goose bumps covered his arms and back. Then, she kissed him on the cold cheek and lingered there for a quite long moment, before pulling away and bringing her lips near to his ear.

"I cannot understand why you're so distant lately, but we'll find out a way to work on this, together, I promise. I love you, Ron and I can't live without you." She whispered smoothly and kissed his hair softly. "Everything's gonna be alright… Goodnight, baby."

Ron felt his goose bumps still on his back as Hermione shifted on the bed and started sleeping. He wanted to cry violently, hearing these soothing words which promising so beautiful things… He wanted to believe her with all his heart, but he knew that when he would tell her about his cheating, she would forget all about her love for him, she wouldn't possibly want to find out a way to pull him out of this; she would just ditch him and he would live miserable and alone for the rest of his ruined life…

'I know there is no way out of this… There is no way out of this… no way out of this… I'm alone… I'm alone… help…' he was pleading in his mind like he was an afraid little boy, and he started trembling slightly. It was predetermined to be a difficult night for him…

So, what do you think of this? I would really like to know by reading some FEEDBACK!!! That would be just awesome!

- If that might confuse you, when Ron was referring to 'his controllers', he meant all his bad feelings and his enormous guilt for his cheating, which control him almost completely at the time.

-And I'll try to update as soon as possible. Until then... xxx :)