Ron had always been a good faker, for the most part. Happy on the outside, bitter and jealous on the inside. It's how he had everyone fooled. Their friends, their family, the media. To everyone, they were the classic love story - the one everyone envied and longed to have.
Hermione scoffed as she picked herself up from the floor of their two story home. She hadn't wanted to buy the damn house in the first place, but Ron had wanted to flash his cash for all to see. He had craved the attention.
She made her way up the stairs to their bedroom, holding her ribs as she tiredly slumped with each step. She was exhausted, too drained to follow her usual routine of taking a potion to heal her injuries quicker.
She cringed the moment her face met the pillow, knowing their would be a red stain on the pillowcase. She pulled the covers over her aching body, curling up into herself as she finally let a tear fall from her frustration.
Silence surrounded her, so she listened harder. There was never silence in this house. Suddenly, she heard a thump from down the stairs, before loud, heavy snoring echoed throughout the house.
She released a breath, glad to know the drunken man, her so called fiance, was asleep. It was no surprise, after all, it took a lot of energy to beat someone to the point they struggled to stand.
She shivered under the sheets despite their warmth. They offered comfort, but could not provide the protection she needed. She sighed, just glad he wouldn't be joining her tonight. She wasn't sure how much more she could endure.
She let her heavy eyes droop closed as she succumbed to her exhaustion. Not long not until she heard the countless apologies, unless he was still intoxicated by then.