I'd just like to say how much I appreciate all the reviews! Thanks, everyone, even if I don't manage to get back to you! After all, I'm sure you'd rather me be getting the rest of the story proofread so I can post it, anyway, right?

Chapter 30

Hermione was in the living room holding the pie Molly insisted she take, waiting on Ana's final kisses to be dispensed, when the front door burst open and hit the wall with a crash. Ron had arrived.

He strode over to her, fury in his face, and she braced herself for his verbal assault. Surely he wouldn't get physical in front of his parents.

"You fucking Mudblood whore! What are you doing here, tattling to my mommy?" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry shoving Ana into Ginny's arms and Arthur rising from his chair. She yanked away from Ron, not saying anything.

"Answer me, damn it! I've been looking all over London for you! But you haven't been in London, have you, bitch? You're coming home with me now." She avoided his grasp, ducking away from him. He moved slowly, clumsily. He'd been drinking, of course.

"No, Ron, I'm not coming home with you anymore."

"Yes, bitch, you are! You're mine, even if you are a whore!" He swung a fist at her; Arthur caught his arm, but he pulled away from him and swung again, suddenly moving much faster. He made contact with the side of her face before she could duck. She didn't know how he'd managed to hit her that hard. Through her tears, she saw Harry knock him to the ground and deliver a punch of his own. She ran out of the house, needing Viktor, needing to be home, needing his love and his arms.

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In the next room, Molly was sobbing as she, Ginny, and Ana watched Hermione Apparate from the gate. In the midst of Molly's tattered comments, she asked, "Where is she going?"

Ginny knew. Without being told, she and Harry had both known from the way Viktor Krum looked at Hermione how much he cared. Under her breathe, so her mother couldn't hear her, Ginny muttered, "Bulgaria. And about bloody time, too."

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Hermione was running to the door the moment her feet touched gravel. Viktor was just inside, still in his grimy Quidditch robes. He caught her as she ran into his arms, tears mingling with the blood on her face, somehow still carrying Molly's pie.

"Hermione! Vhat has happened? You are bleeding! Talk to me, svetlina, vhat is it?"

Through sobs, she choked out the occurrence at the Burrow while he carried her to the bathroom, sat her on the counter, and cleaned up her face. He felt his muscles tensing with fury with every word out of her mouth. He should have beaten the idiot more. He should have left him unconscious. He should—

He should control his fury and focus on the woman in front of him. She needed him right now, and however badly Weasley needed a good pounding, Hermione needed him more.

He cradled her against him while she sobbed, not speaking, just letting her cry. When her tears had calmed down to mere hiccups, she wiped her face and looked in his eyes. Swirling in hers, he saw a light, a hope, and a desperate truth.

"Vitya," she said quietly, firmly. "I'm doing it. I'm filing for divorce. After that, I want to be with you."

His heart pounded in his throat. He wanted to believe her, desperately. "Svetlina...Did you decide this now, vhen you vere so upset? Do you vant more time to think?"

"No," she said, kissing him. "No, I decided to do it before Ron even showed up. It wasn't my fault the marriage didn't work, and I can accept that now. I'll tell you the story later." She grinned and kissed him again, murmuring against his mouth, "I'm ready to try love again, real love."

He drew her close and deepened the kiss. When he pulled away, panting, needing, he whispered in a choked, joyful, tearful voice, "You are staying vith me. You are staying vith me. Anything, everything I haff, svetlina, love, is yours." The little baby bird was suddenly an eagle, soaring through the sky, strong and free.

Hermione's face was glowing like a rose that had burst into full bloom in the morning sun. She took his hand and moved toward the bedroom, but he stopped her yet again.

"No, love," Viktor murmured into her hair. "Our first time together must be perfect." With that, he swept her off her feet--oh, he loved the feel of her in his arms!—and carried her to the soft, clean sheets of his bed.