I feel a need to post a warning, and I regret that I didn't do it earlier in the story. This chapter contains the high point of the domestic violence. I know personally that, when you've dealt with such a thing in your life, it can be as hard to read about as it is to write about. I also want to say that allowing it to continue longer than it should does not make you weak. Even a strong woman may have difficulty ending such a relationship; in fact, it is characteristic of victims of domestic violence. However, if you're in an abusive relationship, help is available, and I hope something in my story can inspire you to reach for it. You can reach the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE or http/ and I hope that you, too, can improve your quality of life.

Chapter 22

Hermione Apparated straight to the Ministry, after re-transfiguring her jeans into something suitable for the office. She spent several hours going through old Chinese wizarding treaties, searching for a loophole in the laws against removing information from the state. She'd learned in Muggle geography class that the Chinese were a rather private people; it seemed their wizards wanted her to see it firsthand. She dragged herself to her apartment with dread that evening, exhausted from working her way through so much legal language.

Ron was home, sitting on the couch eating pork and beans out of the can. He wasn't drunk yet, although there was a beer on the table. She took her books to her office, and almost stayed there, but she was hungry. She hadn't eaten since breakfast in Viktor's bed. With that thought, she went to the small, cramped kitchen with a smile gracing her face.

"Where'd you go last night?"

"Oh, I just thought you might like a bit of privacy. Lavender seemed rather friendly; I thought you might bring her back for a nightcap or something."

He nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it; we had a nice time." What a strange answer, she thought, as if they were roommates. Actually, they pretty much were. "Did you stay at Ginny's?"

"No, it was late and Ana was tired. I didn't want to keep them up."

"Where the hell did you go then? Home with that Bulgarian bastard?" He laughed bitterly. "He needs to pay up." Fury rolled up inside her, more at the insult to Viktor than to her. She whirled and slapped him in the face, yelling at him.

"How dare you talk about me like I'm a whore, especially when you're the one sleeping with anything that moves? What's your problem with Viktor? Is it because he stuck up for me? It's about time someone did, because my husband doesn't have any respect for me! He'd rather make out with other women in public, get drunk, and get arrested than pay any attention to his wife!"

"Go ahead, stick up for the bastard. He just wants to fuck you; all he ever wanted was to fuck you!"

"He has never wanted to fuck me!" she said, spitting the foul word out like it was imbued with essence of hemlock. Vitya would never fuck her, never do anything so crude. He would make love, soft and sweet, rough and hard, but love either way. This blow to Viktor's honor infuriated her even more deeply.

"Perfect Hermione, with her fetish for the famous, Krum, Harry; hell, you're probably fooling around with my dear sister since she made the team. But not me; I'm not good enough for you! You haven't let me have a fuck since I had my name in the Prophet for the Romanian potions ring! My dick works just as good as the next man's, bitch." He shoved her hard against the counter, bruising her back, pulling up her skirt.

"Get off of me!" she shrieked. She managed to reach her wand and immobilized him. She stepped around his body, his eyes screaming burning fury at her, and looked down at him. "You bloody well know there's never been anything between me and Harry, and the idea of me with Ginny is ridiculous. I've never had sex with anyone but you and I wish like hell I hadn't done that. You had better never touch me again, because I know spells that would make Lorena Bobbitt look like a sweet and innocent specimen of womanhood." She went to their room and gathered up enough clothes for a couple of days. As she was headed to the door to go, she undid her spell, and he came running towards her. She held her wand ready.

"You're my wife!" Ron cried, in a strangled voice. She didn't know if he was furious or upset or confused. She also didn't care. He'd blown so many chances.

"Yes, I am, and I bloody hate it," she spat. With that, Hermione was gone.

Hermione alternated between fuming and crying as she dumped her clothes into the dresser at a hotel room. She wanted desperately to run to Viktor again. He would make her feel like she was more than the worthless tramp Ron made her feel like. Viktor would look at her, with that beautiful wonder in his eyes, and she would feel priceless.

Hermione plopped down on the hard mattress, her lower back twinging from hitting the counter. She closed her eyes and entertained thoughts of Viktor's cloudlike mattress, and the strong arms of the man in it, the man she'd snuggled close to all night. Try as she might, her encounter with Ron kept popping to the forefront of her mind.

She felt dirty, tainted, stained. She and Ron had been together intimately hundreds of times during the course of their marriage, of course, but now she hated even the slightest touch. His hand on her arm made her want to cringe. What he had wanted to…she felt as though her skin were enveloped in a filthy, clinging, tarry substance. She needed to be clean.

She got in the shower, turning it up hot enough to bring tears to her eyes, hot enough to melt the emotional tar all over her body. She scrubbed until her skin felt raw, but she still felt polluted. She sat in the bottom of the tub and cried as the water pelted her, until the sobs hurt her chest and made her back ache worse than it already did.

Wrapping herself in a towel, she dug through the bag she'd had at Viktor's last night. He'd told her to keep the Durmstrang shirt; it didn't fit him anyway. She pulled it on, as if the touch of something of his could make her clean. She thought she could smell his body on it from sleep last night. Already she missed him. Maybe a walk would clear her thoughts.

As she tied the last shoelace, Hermione heard shouting in the hallway, along with a banging noise; someone was banging on doors.

"Sir, I must insist you stop disturbing our guests!"

"Leave me the hell alone! I'm looking for my wife!"

Ron. She had to leave. She didn't think she could stand seeing him again, not this soon. Where would she go? He'd find her at Harry's or at his parents'.

He banged on her door next. "Hermione! Are you in there?" he yelled.

"Sir, I am going to phone the police!"

There was nowhere to hide but with Viktor. As she heard Ron saying, "Alohomora!" she Apparated.