Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Author Note: Again, I am sorry about the wait but real life is hectic. Be glad though, for this is the longest chapter so far. Over three thousand words, fwee. Anyway, in response to a question from one of you about the lemons that might or might not be appearing in this story. As of right now, there are some planned but they will be far later. I'm sorry if this is upsetting, but some of the best stories I've read have had enough plot behind the smut to make it relevant and pivotal to the story, instead of useless fluff. Enjoy the chapter. Oh, and as for the title to this chapter, I hope some of you will realize why it is so. It is not difficult, but still, tell me why you think I named this chapter this in your review.

Breaking the Habit

Chapter Eight – Cause and Effect

They lay entwined on Hermione's bed until they forgot what time was and their troubles melted away, for they grew too caught up in the other to care about the world passing by them. She smiled up to her boyfriend as he absently ran his fingers through her hair, their commingled breaths playing invisibly between them. Her hands rested on his chest and she drew nonsensical designs of his bare skin as she let out a quiet sigh. He made a noise in the back of this throat to bring her attention up to his face. By the expression on his features, no words were needed to get the meaning of his question across. They had done little more than snog and he worried that she was regretting letting herself get tangled in a romantic relationship with him.

She shook her head slowly. "No, I just worry."

"About vhat? You know I von't let anyone touch you."

'I know." She murmured. "It is not for myself that I worry." She looked up at him with those expressive autumn coloured eyes, another sigh escaping her. "I am concerned about you."

He grinned, showing off his perfect teeth that would have made even her parents proud. "Nobody vill be hurting me either, so you haff no need to fret."

She pressed her cheek against his chest, squeezing her eyes closed and resting her palms against his biceps. No matter what he said, she could not shake a deep sense of foreboding that utterly ruined the mood for her. She gave his biceps a light squeeze before untangling herself from his grasp. He threw her a glance as she pulled her discarded shirt over her head and began to search for her shoes.

"Vhat are you doing?"

"This is going to make me sound rather crazy, but I feel like we need to get out of here. I hate this place and the memories associated with it, excluding the ones we just made. We can continue back at home, just not here. We have Crookshanks and he is all I need from this hell hole."

Without inquiring about the situation further, he rose and covered himself up. They walked hand in hand out of the bedroom and she let out a breath she did not realize she had been holding when there was no sight of Ronald lingering behind the couch. Viktor scooped up the case designed to transport animals, her spitting cat hissing as his surroundings moved. She motioned for him to go first and he quietly called out his destination, disappearing into a rush of emerald flames.

She cast a final glance about the apartment that had become her own personal hell for the majority of the past year and physically felt herself stepping into the next phase of her life. She was about to take a handful of floo powder and toss it into the fire, when an unopened letter on the coffee table caught her eye. She kept the glittering particles in her hand and picked the parchment up with her free hand. There were only three words written on the paper, but they were enough to make her heart spasm painfully.

'I see you.'

She let out a sharp cry and flung the letter away from her, not caring where it landed. She would recognize that handwriting anywhere and searched the room frantically with her eyes for the presence of the redheaded devil who loved to see her in pain. Her entire body began to tremble terrible as rational thought and sheer animal terror flooded through her. Her arms wrapped tightly about her middle as she began to step towards the fire place, towards the mode of transportation that would take her to the one person she knew would protect her.

A peculiar glimmer near the entrance to the kitchen caught her sight and she slowly turned to face it, dread chilling her veins. Something that looked horribly like an invisibility cloak was swept off of a body and a hoarse cry ruptured from her mouth. That part of her Ronald had broken, that instinctively cowered before him began to whimper in horror and at one point, just weeks before, all of her would have fallen to her knees to beg forgiveness. Except this would not happen, for Viktor had begun to show her that she was something special, something to be valued.

She would not give up what she had with her Bulgarian even if it meant she would have to bear the brunt of Ronald's anger, though she did not intend to stick around long enough to see that particular facet of his personality. She backed up against the fireplace and realized with a soft thrill that perhaps he did not know that she still had a fistful of floo powder. It would the thing to save her and before throwing it into the hearth, she made sure to let their gazes connect.

"Get out of my life, Ronald." She said quietly. "I am no longer you plaything to break and hurt. Somebody loves me now; he thinks I'm beautiful and special. That's more than you can say about me. I do not ever want to see you again." While her voice was soft, the new strength she felt kept it audible.

She flung her handful into the flames and whispered her destination in hopes that Ronald would not hear it. The last thing she heard before disappearing in a roar of fire was his incensed yell. She had hardly taken a breath before she found herself sprawled out on the floor of Viktor's bedroom. Without thinking, she scuttled away from the fireplace and pressed her back against the foot of the bed, staring at the hearth with wide eyes. She felt someone kneel beside her and tenderly touch her shoulder, but she paid them no heed. She simply pulled her knees up against her chest and hugged them tightly, her body rocking slightly.

"Hermione…"

She leaned into Viktor's affectionate body, drawing comfort from his presence. "He was there." She muttered, too afraid to close her eyes.

He did not need to ask who and let out a fierce growl, wrapping his arms around her trembling form. "He vill never touch you. I am going to go down to your Ministry and report him."

She let out a little gasp and shook her head, that enough to rip her from her stupor. "No!" She squeaked. "No, please don't. I don't want everyone knowing. Molly would be so disappointed."

"His mother has nothing to do vith this. Her son does not deserve to live."

"Maybe not, but we don't ever have to see him again." She did not want a big confrontation and to be honest, she did not know if she could handle that all encompassing fear again.

She heard him let out a dissatisfied sigh and began to smooth her hair, curling the locks around his calloused fingers. It went unspoken between the two that someday they would have to do something about the problem Ronald created, especially if they wanted to take their relationship to the next level. Instead of poking at the subject further, he simply held her close to him and waited for her shaking to subside. For, what else could a devoted boyfriend do except comfort and protect his girl when she needed it?

A day had passed since the latest episode with Ronald before Hermione was willing to leave the safety their home presented. When she did let Viktor lead her into the outside world, the question of where all her clothing was came up. She mildly responded that she never had much to wear, just a few shirts and a skirt or two. He had decided right then that his girl would not be seen walking around in a state of semi-poverty.

She let out a snort as she thought about his pigheaded stubbornness in taking her to one of the nicest places he knew of to get her a new wardrobe. She honestly hated when people spent extravagant sums of money on her, it made her feel uncomfortable, like she had to repay them somehow. Despite the number of times he reassured her that what was his was hers, money included, she still felt like he should not waste his money on her.

And so, she found herself standing on a raised platform with a slightly dumpy woman circling her, occasionally pausing to write something down on the clipboard she had clutched against her breast. She fought the urge to bring her arms up to cover herself, for she stood dressed in nothing but her undergarments, but the sharp noise the woman made kept her still. She had no desire to incur the wrath of such a creature that simply exuded ferocity.

The lady finally came to a stand still and let out a satisfied sound. "You may dress yourself. Now, Mr. Krum mentioned to me that you were to get an entire wardrobe. This is correct, yes?"

Hermione nodded slowly as she pulled her clothing on, fighting the urge to blush uncontrollably. By the woman's tone of voice, it was clear she disapproved of whatever was going on between the famous Quidditch star and the best friend of the world wide renowned Boy Who Lived. The woman huffed to herself as she clearly began to plan things out in her mind, staring avidly at Hermione as she created the things that someday would be a reality.

"You will need to come back in next week for a general fitting, just to make sure what I will be making fits you the way it should. Should you have any questions tell Mr. Krum to send us an owl."

Hermione hated the condescending way the shop owner treated her, but swallowed her objections. She did not want to impose upon Viktor, but he seemed to honestly want to buy her clothing and she would not object to his overwhelming hospitality. She simply laced her fingers together before her and exited the backroom where this entire process had taken place. Viktor was there waiting for her in the show room part of the shop and flashed her one of those smiles that made the rest of the world disappear.

She pulled her hands apart and tangled their digits together, still amazed that such a man as he had decided to incorporate her into his life. She leaned her head against his shoulder and was about to ask if they should go get something to eat, when the magical version of pager went off in her pocket. She pulled away from him and fished it out. It took her a moment to comprehend what the code meant, but when it clicked she let out a horrified gasp.

She looked up at Viktor with dismayed eyes, before reaching for her wand. "I have to go. There's been an attack and the hospital is overflowing with victims. They need all healers to report to their stations." She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him tenderly, enjoying the brief moment before pulling away.

She smiled sadly to him before disaparating away to St. Mungo's. Her feet slammed into the ground and she transfigured her light outer robes into the standard white robes of a medi-witch, sticking her wand into a pocket as she began to pull her out of her face. She strode up towards the ward that she had been assigned to, knowing that it would be the one with the most patients. She was one of the several healers who worked in the 'emergency room' of the hospital and most of the time there was only a smattering of people there, but now it would be overflowing.

She sucked in a deep breath of clean air before stepping into the war zone. She immediately was assailed with the wails of the injured and dying. Those shields that protected her from getting too involved flew up and she stopped being a human, becoming a machine. She surveyed her surroundings, looking around and realized that apart from the healers-in-training, she was the only fully fledged medi-witch there. Snagging the arm of one of the trainees, she spoke to the young man in a hushed voice.

"We need to separate these people. Choose the ones that are the most injured and work on them first, start with the mortally wounded and move down the scale. Tell the others, this is extremely important." He got the message and scuttled off, leaving her.

She steadied herself as she cast a quick gaze at all the people crying out for help and selected the one she felt was the worst of. As she walked over to him, a wearing realization hit her. It was going to be a very long day.

It was done. It had taken close to six hours to sort through and heal all those injured in the most recent Death Eater attack, but it was finally done. Hermione sunk gratefully down into one of the chair's in the break room, cradling her aching head in her fingers. Testimony to her weariness, she did not spare a thought to the dried blood clinging to her hands. She let out a shaky breath as she felt how low her magic level was; knowing that those last few really drained her of the power that simply kept her going.

Despite the other healers' pleas for her to stop, that she had done enough, she had continued going from victim to victim and doing whatever she could for them. She had witnessed countless souls dying and then she too had saved several from passing away. This was the exact reason she had decided to become a medi-witch while still in school, to save people. Most of the time being a medi-witch was one of the most unsatisfying careers she could have taken because nobody ever thanked the witch who healed them.

It was times like this when she saw that spark of life flare in a person's eyes she knew she had all the thanks she would ever need right there. She wanted nothing more than to go home and sink into her bed, to sleep for the next few days. A quiet groan escaped from her mouth and rapidly changed to a surprised intake of breath when someone's hand descended onto her shoulder. She pulled her face out of her palms and stared up at one of her coworkers.

"Yes?" She asked, her scratchy voice belaying her exhaustion.

"Healer Shawdi wants to talk to you."

She bit back a sigh. Healer Shawdi was the woman who oversaw their ward, their boss so to say. She slowly rose from her chair and stumbled out of the break room. She knew that Shawdi would be waiting in her personal office and silently wished that she had a private place to retreat to when the stress of work got to her. She was glad, however, that the room was nearby and it only took her a few moments to get there. She knocked quietly on the door and when admittance had been granted, stepped inside. The Indian woman motioned for Hermione to take a seat in one of the chairs before her desk and she thankfully dropped her aching body into the welcoming seat.

"You wished to speak with me, Healer?" She asked.

The woman nodded. "I wanted to ask you about your performance today."

Her brow furrowed at the question as worry began to gnaw at the pit of her stomach. "I was not aware that I did anything against protocol. I arrived when my pager went off and was the first on the scene. I worked until each patient was in a bed and healed to the best of our ability. I believed I had done all that was necessary."

A faint smile etched across the older woman's face as she rested her hands on her desk. For a moment all she did was watch Hermione, that warm look making her seem far from foreboding. She then leaned back in her chair, letting her palms fall across her stomach.

"You did far more than what was necessary. Correct me if I am wrong, but you did not stop once while there was someone who needed help, did you?" She waited until Hermione had given a quick shake of her head, before continuing once more. "Even when your fellows paused for a breather, you gave your all to give aid to all those you could. You even started the process of triage when you arrived when the trainees were running around like they had never seen a cut before. A lot of people have their lives because of your foresight and dedication. You have done very well here and your actions today have decided for me."

Hermione looked up at her with questions written all over her face. "Decided what, if you do not mind me asking?"

"While you are still relatively new here, you have more than proved to be an invaluable commodity to the staff. As you know, many of the first year healers are sent to other hospitals once they are finished that primary year. I want you to stay here and become a full member of the St. Mungo's staff." A faint twinkle came into Shawdi's eyes as she continued to speak. "Who knows, maybe someday you will be sitting here in this chair when I leave."

Hermione was still for a moment before letting out a happy cry. She had been terrified that she would be sent away after she had finished the customary year, but with this knowledge her spot at St. Mungo's had been assured. In all actuality, she had just about been told that someday she would be the head healer of this ward. A bright smile spread across her weary face as she thanked the woman sincerely. She rose to her feet, suddenly feeling far stronger than she had when she arrived, to go back to start checking up on some of the patients when Healer Shawdi stopped her.

"Hermione, you have done enough today. Go home and rest, I don't want to put one of my medi-witches into a bed here because of exhaustion."

She nodded, secretly relieved, and exited the office. She leaned back against a wall and tilted her head against the cool plaster, a blinding smile on her tired features. She let out a soft sigh and she started to move once more, knowing that there was one person out there who would be just as happy for her as she felt then when told about this news. Warmth spread through her chest as she took of her transfigured, dirty robes and bundled them up beneath her arm. She pulled her wand from the holster on her forearm and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear. The first thing to be done, however, when she got home would be to take a shower and wash the blood and grime from her body. She stepped onto the apparation pad and held her want tightly as she sent herself home.

Review and feed me, I have been very hungry lately.

Blessed Be

Ame