A/N;Buckle up buttercups the next two chapters deal with adult situations, please dress appropriately. Big thank you to my Alpha/Beta Lioness_Snake and my Ravenclaw friend. You guys are awesome. I would also like to add that this chapter covers some serious topics and if you are in this situation there is help and always a way out. My mailbox is open.

We never talked about survival
I don't know what good talking would've done
My long lost revival
Withered up in the adolescent sun
Lost, let down
I always let you burn me to the ground
I am unwound
I always let you burn me to the ground
By John Moreland

Chapter Three

The clock on the wall stuck three. Hermione lay silent in her bed, listening to her husband fumble through the front door. Ronald would be drunk. All she could do is pretend to be asleep, maybe just maybe he would leave her alone. He didn't even try to be quiet anymore, not caring that she had a job or that she needed sleep. He turned on the lights, she remained still, not wanting to fight. Because that's what Ronald wanted right now.

Ronald was a mean drunk.

The smell of cheap ale hit her nose as he entered the room. Flicking on the television, he turned the sound up. Giggling as he stumbled, falling onto the bed. Mumbling as he kicked off his shoes. She heard him removing his clothes, the bed dipped, covers lifted. Still feigning sleep even as he farted, giggling again.

"Mione, Mione," Ronald whinged, "I need you to snuggle with me, come over here and snuggle with meeee."

Hermione hated the shortened version of her name. Tolerating it from only the closest of her friends. When slurred, it grated on her nerves, without thinking, she flinched.

"OHHH! I knew you were awake, come give me a snuggle, love on me." He scooted closer, spooning against her back. Big oafish hands curled around her waist, pulling her tight—stinking of body odor, cheap ale, and his sweaty feet. The stubble on his cheeks scratched her shoulder, Hermione couldn't remember the last time she saw him shower.

"Ronald it's late, I need to get up in a few hours," She pleaded with him, she didn't want to fight, "Can we please turn off the telly and the lights."

The switch flipped, his voice went from a saccharin whine to pure venom, "Yeah, right, sure anything for you, you always get what you want, Mione," He rolled away from her, getting to his feet. The fight was on.

Hermione winced, too tired to fight, angry that she was being forced. She would get up, there would be no sense in trying for sleep now. She headed for the shower. He rounded on her towering over her small frame, screaming, red-faced.

"Why do you have to be such a bitch all the time? That's what you are. A spoiled fucking bitch that always gets what she wants," He followed her into the loo, unrelenting, blocking the doorway.

Hermione kept her mouth closed, fighting the urge to tear strips from Ron's hide. If she stayed quiet, his temper might cool. Hating him standing there leering at her, all she wanted now was a hot shower, "Please leave Ronald, I'd like to shower."

"No, you are my wife, I have every right to look at you. You spoiled Bitch, you always get what you want. I never get what I want. All I wanted was for you to love on me, you couldn't even fucking do that," The tirade continued, picking up steam, "You don't want to touch me, you don't want me looking at you. Are you fucking someone else, that's what it is, isn't it? Is it someone you work with? Yeah, it's someone you work with, that's why you're never home." His head lowered, eyes glaring, sneering as he swayed against the door.

This would be a fight that lasted until she left the house, talking him down, not an option tonight. Hermione turned her back, pulled her t-shirt over her head. Turning on the taps, as she stepped out of her knickers into the hot stream. Exhausted from the lack of sleep paired with his incessant verbal abuse.

She watched him watching her. Waiting for his next move. Cringing when Ronald unbuttoned his trousers. His eyes never leaving her, he slowly undressed as he moved toward her.

Hermione took a shuddering breath, she would get through this, it never lasted long. Steam filled the room, she heard Ronald mumbling. Hermione's mind drifted off. Thinking she should have turned on the exhaust, ignoring when Ron stepped into the shower stall, the pathetic limp worm in his hand. He was too big to push away. Too tired to fight, Ronald took her wrists, pulling them over her head. His mouth latched on to hers, his sloppy kissing made her gag. There was too much slobber, too much tongue, Hermione turned her head away and instantly regretted the action. Ronald pushed her against the tiles as he turned her around. Shampoo ran in ringlets down her face. She still had soap in her hair.

"Fine, Bitch, you don't want to look at me anymore! That's fine. I'll fuck your arse. It might be warmer than that frigid cunt of yours."
Hermione said nothing, she would be impressed if he could even get hard. How long had it been? At least a month. She wanted to rinse her hair and make coffee. She could stop for coffee on her way into work. Thinking about her day helped when dealing with Ron.

Ronald nudged her knees apart; she wasn't about to make this easy. His little worm tickled her backside like a wet noodle. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, resisting the urge to giggle. He grunted and pushed, she could feel his hand working to make himself hard, while she thought about treating herself to a blueberry muffin.
The water began to cool, and Ronald kept on pumping away with his hand, nothing was going to happen. He was limp and useless as always. Hermione tipped her head back into the stream, rinsing out her hair. Casually she reaches for the conditioner, tuning out the slap, slap, slap of her drunk husband wanking behind her.
She heard a low growl. Here it comes, she thought. The tirade. Just how hateful would this one be.
"This is your fault you know, you did this to me," He wiggled his limp cock in her direction, "I never had this problem before, it's just you and your frigid cunt, you spoiled Bitch, little miss fucking perfect. With your bloody rich parents that just so happened to leave you everything. Wasn't that fucking convenient," Hate in his voice reaching a new level, "I'd bet you planned that all along didn't you…planned to take their memories and send them packing?" He leaned in close, breath stinking of cheap ale, the hate reaching his eyes, "I'm right, aren't I?"
At one point in her life, Hermione would have hexed him into pieces. This morning, however, she didn't have the energy. Instead, she ducked under his arm and walked out of the bathroom. With wordless spells, she dressed, her hair tying itself into a bun. She refused to argue with him. Tuning out the tirade.
He wanted a pound of flesh. She wouldn't give it to him. Hopefully, by tonight this will have blown over. He would behave as if nothing happened, and she would fix dinner. Like the good wife, she was expected to be. At the front door, she turned to look at him, standing naked in the kitchen, stuffing his face. She wanted to say something, anything but couldn't find the words. Turning on her heel, she apparated to the employee entrance of the Ministry. The coffee shop down the street would be open.
Sitting inside the café in the grey light of early dawn, she sipped at her coffee, nibbling at the blueberry muffin. Relaxing back in her chair, she watched the people going about their morning. Finding peace in the bustle of commuters, and imagining a life not lived in chaos. It was nice to just sit quietly and enjoy her meal.

Ministry employees dotted the muggles. Hermione checked the time. She needed to hit the loo and check her makeup. Leaving the way she had. There wasn't a chance to make sure she was presentable. Cosmetics were never a priority for Hermione, but with her position within the Ministry, she needed to keep up appearances.
Staring back at her in the mirror stood a woman she didn't recognize, twenty-four years old, and yet she felt ancient. She should feel that her whole life was ahead of her. Instead, it felt like there was nothing left. She tucked in a few stray curls and added a pink tint to her lips. That would be good enough. With no meetings scheduled for the day, she could afford to relax in her appearance. She turned to leave and noticed the poster on the back of the door for the first time. Usually, not something she paid any attention to.

This one was different. The girl in the poster sat on a floor, and the statement above glared in red, 'He doesn't have to hit you for it to be abuse.' The posters list of abusive behavior stopped her in her tracks, as she slowly read through it. Everything on it rang true, every word a testament that she wasn't crazy, and this was not normal behavior.
A sharp knock on the door brought her back to reality. Hermione adjusted her coat and unlocked the door. She took a coffee to go and headed to her office, meeting Harry in the main Atrium. They walked together towards her office.
"How's Ron?" Harry asked, "Has he gotten any help?"
"Ron is just Ron, he refuses to believe he has a problem," Ron's drinking wasn't a secret. It was the reason for his termination from the Aurors office. Everyone knew. Her friends, family, the entire Wizarding World knew what transpired. The abuse he doled out. However, no one knew about it, not even Harry.
"Lunch?" He offered with a weak smile.
"Noon," Hermione couldn't resist his boyish grin, she smiled back as she shut her door. Whenever Harry worked in the office, he made it a point to have lunch with her. She thought he felt sorry for her, but she liked being alone. She leaned back against her office door and sighed. The ugly words from the latest fight came rushing in. In the silence of her office, the tears flowed. She slid down the door and onto the floor and buried her face in her hands. This she thought needed to stop, all of it. A wave of exhaustion threatened to drown her, nausea swept over her. She scrambled to her feet, bolting for the trash bin, vomiting up the muffin, with her coffee. Her head pounding. She needed to pull herself together, she pushed Ronald and all his bullshite to the back of her mind. Too many people counted on her to do her job.
Hermione didn't need to numb herself with alcohol or potions. She had her work, that's what she would do, bury herself in the next project. She led the department in a new prison reform over the last few years. Bringing Azkaban into the future. Getting rid of the Dementors, the first thing she did. Next, she brought in food and clean clothing showers and fresh air. The list of Death Eaters now paroled and living productive lives grew every day. Thorfinn Rowle worked in the Magical Creatures Department. Lucius Malfoy assisted the Minister of Magic, she knew Antonin Dolohov was an up and coming Healer at Saint Mungo's, apparently, he had talent fixing spells gone wrong.
Hermione loved proving the naysayers wrong. She battled hard against the Wizengamot for the prison reform. Powerful wizards shouldn't be left to waste away. Too many had already been lost due to the War. Now that it was over, their community needed to heal. Hermione believed in her heart that those former Death Eaters had something to contribute to the new society. Proving in court that the Dark Lords' magic influenced their behavior. That darkness leached into them just as the Horcrux's had done to her and Harry. Changing Ronald into someone, she didn't recognize.

The thought of fresh air reminded her that she would truly love to open a window. Only there were no windows deep inside the Ministry. It was a constant fight with claustrophobia—something she never experienced before the War. Nervous energy washed over her, panic edging its way back in. A cup of tea would help, she could pull herself together long enough to go get herself a cuppa.

The afternoon was upon her, and Harry found her buried beneath a pile of paperwork, "Just let me finish this last note… and…. There I'm done." She was famished.
They found their usual table, set back in the corner and away from prying eyes. Hermione inhaled her salad, not bothering with a conversation. She could feel Harry watching her, "What?"
"Can I get you something else, do you want the other half of my burger?" He grinned at her, "You ate breakfast, didn't you?"
"Lost it in the bin, I wasn't feeling well this morning," Hermione reached over and took the other half of Harry's burger and a handful of chips.
Harry laughed, "Are you up the duff?"
Hermione glared and shoved more chips in her mouth. She wasn't pregnant. There was no way she could be pregnant. Besides this morning, she couldn't remember the last time Ron slobbered all over her, "There's no way I'm pregnant, don't even think it, Harry."
"Would it be that bad, Hermione? Maybe that's what it would take to pull Ron out of whatever this is he's going through." Harry looked so hopeful it broke her heart.
She felt awful for lying to Harry, pretending she lived in marital bliss. Pretending Ronald Weasley wasn't a narcissistic, abusive alcoholic. Pretending to the point that her best friend believed a baby would be a blessing. Nausea swept over her once more. She needed to excuse herself. There were too many people around, and she wasn't about to vomit in a crowded cafeteria.
"You don't look well, Hermione, are you feeling alright?" Harry reached for her hand. "Seriously, Hermione, can I get you something … a hot tea?"
"Peppermint tea perhaps, I'm alright, I think I just ate too fast, along with no sleep, stress," Hermione teared up, "Just thinking about my parents and how …."
"Hermione, we'll find them and fix their memories, and everything will be alright," Harry slid onto the bench next to her.
"It's going to be alright Hermione, I'll help you find them and bring them home," He dabbed her tears with a napkin and hugged her tightly, "Hang on I'll get you some tea."
She watched Harry as he walked off in search of a peppermint tea. Lack of sleep had her emotions running high, the fight she had with Ron kept rearing its ugly head. He liked to bring up her parents and the part she played in erasing their memories. She tried to find them right after the War, but they vanished without a trace. The Trio went to Australia in search of them. This is where Ronald proposed, and she quickly found herself trapped in a whirlwind engagement. Between him and his mother, they put a stop to the search party. Dragging her home to Great Britain, and suddenly her parents are on the backburner.
Harry returned with her tea and escorted her back to her office, "Harry, I want to start looking again, I need to do this."
"What about Ron? I think he needs you right now."
Ron could fuck right off for all she cared, but she would never say that to Harry, "Right Ron, I can't just leave with everything going on." That sounded fake even to her, she hoped Harry didn't notice.

"Do you want me to hang out for a bit?" Harry stood in the doorway, his eyes wouldn't meet hers as fidgeted with a button on his uniform. Hermione turned around and hugged her friend. Taking comfort in his steady heartbeat and warm, masculine scent.

"No, thank you, though. I've tons of work to complete," She paused. On the edge of telling him everything and chickening out, "I'm fine, really I am, thank you for the tea. I'll meet you tomorrow morning for a coffee," She kissed his cheek as she stepped away, "I promise I'm fine."
Harry leaned forward and kissed her cheek, "See you tomorrow," She watched his sad little smile disappear behind the door.
Hermione sank into her chair behind her desk, she leaned back sipping her tea. Breathing deeply, slow practiced breathes, before panic wrapped her in a chokehold. If she went to Saint Mungo's, people would talk, she certainly didn't want Molly to find out she was carrying a child. She didn't want anyone to know. She decided to pop into a Chemist on her way home, get a test. She could use the loo in the coffee shop, no one would know. If it was positive if, by some chance, Ronald's limp prick was able to impregnate her? She didn't want to think about it. Because there was no way she was having this baby.
She sat in silence in her office, sipping cold tea, unable to concentrate on any work. She had a long list of new parolees to go over, a list of who would be next. All she could think about, of course, was the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy. It was possible. She stopped taking the birth control potions, Ron never managed to get it up. Besides, the potions gave her headaches. Unfortunately, the limp cock never stopped him from raping her. It was rape, even if it was her husband.

The room closed in on her, Hermione made the decision to leave work early, she needed to know. No one noticed as she quickly moved through the Atrium and out onto the street. Passing the coffee shop, going around the corner. Hesitating at the entrance, she knew in her heart the test would be positive. Tunnel vision hit as she walked through the doors, she felt as if all eyes were on her. It didn't matter this being a muggle shop, the panic was still there. She kept telling herself no one knows you, keep walking, keep moving. Glancing up and down the aisles, she spotted the women's products. Feeling awkward with just the one item, Hermione picked out a muggle headache pill, antacids, a box of her favorite tea and chocolate biscuits. She laid them on the checkout counter, grinning at the clerk, the pregnancy test glared at her from the little pile of miscellaneous goods. Hermione's heart skipped a beat; she could not bolt from the shop, pregnancy test in hand. Her eyes darted toward the door, back to the street, hoping she didn't see anyone she knew.
The clerk never batted an eye while she put everything in a bag. Hermione tucked it in her beaded purse as she left the shop, heading back to the coffee shop to do the deed.
Bustling with muggles and Ministry workers alike, Hermione smiled at friends and headed straight for the loo. Thankful for the lack of a queue. She stood in front of the mirror, mouth dry, heart fluttering, her head pounding. She took some deep breaths as she pulled the test from its package. She needed to pee on it, wait two minutes. It was the longest two minutes Hermione experienced, sitting on the bathroom counter and waiting for a test strip to decide her fate. Seconds ticked by feeling like hours. Her timer chimed, she couldn't bring herself to look. She peeked with one eye, blue positive stared back.

Hermione jumped off the counter and vomited in the toilet. Crying on her knees, how could she bring a child into an abusive marriage. This had to be her bottom. Today, she felt as if all she did was cry and puke, now she sat on a dirty floor in a muggle loo. A pile of ashes burned up used up, nothing left.

She wanted her mum, but the only way to get that was to get up off her knees and take care of the issue. She needed to remember who she was, Hermione Granger didn't sit on a floor and cry about her problems. Hermione Weasley did. She stood back up and went to sink, splashed cold water on her face made herself more presentable. She stopped at the counter, buying herself a coffee before heading out. Ronald would not stop her from finding her parents this time. There were clinics she could go to.

Finding one was not a problem. On the other side of London, far from the Ministry. Hermione marched with a purpose into the clinic.
She needed to do this now before she changed her mind. Ronald would never let her go if she had his child. She would never be able to escape. Abortion was something frowned upon in Wizarding society as was divorce. If anyone in the magical world found out, she would be shunned an outcast. That was a chance she would take. She could always move.

From behind the building, she charmed her hair short and black. Using a glamor to change the shape of her nose along with the color of her eyes, now she felt confident enough to enter. This wouldn't be easy, she needed to prepare to do things an upstanding Ministry Witch would never do. She needed to slip over to the dark side.

"May I help you?" A woman's voice broke her train of thought.

"Yes, I need to make an appointment to discuss a termination," Hermione kept her voice low. Maybe Unforgivables wouldn't be needed.

"Let me take a look at the schedule… Yes, well, how about next Thursday? Will that work for you?"

Hermione looked around at the waiting room. One other woman sat in a corner with her head down, reading a magazine. Next week did not work. And she was about to do something she swore she would never do. She cast a silent Imperio at the receptionist, "I believe I have an appointment in ten minutes."

A blank stare cascaded over the girl, "Oh, yes, I see right here, go-ahead Ms. Parkinson, fill out this paperwork and bring it back up to me."
Hermione smiled to herself at the thought of using Pansy's name, and she had a feeling there were about to be a lot more Imperio's to be cast before this day was over with.

An odd stillness came over her, a feeling of power as she cast. The first Imperio felt the hardest, but the next one and the one after that, each getting easier and easier. Manipulating those around her to do her will. Now in the exam room, Hermione listened to the heartbeat of her unborn child. She watched the fluttering on the ultrasound machine, almost changing her mind. What if, she thought, but there were too many what-ifs.

Her physician rolled her chair back, with a glazed expression, her tone flat, "You're seven weeks along Ms. Parkinson. If you want to proceed, we can give you two different medications to take care of your situation."
"A pill?" Maybe this wouldn't be too bad. She was under the impression it would be done surgically.
"Yes, two pills, my nurse will give you the first pill here. Then you take the second medicine, either right away or up to 48 hours later. This medicine causes cramping and bleeding to empty your uterus. It's kind of like having a really heavy, crampy period, the process is very similar to an early miscarriage. If you don't have any bleeding within 24 hours after taking the second medicine, you'll need to return to the clinic."
She was seven weeks along. How could she be seven weeks pregnant? Where were the signs? Hermione thought back, and the last few weeks were a jumble of drunken fights, crying, vomiting, all she attributed to stress and lack of sleep. The Doctor stood and walked from the room, "Wait here for my nurse," she added as she shut the door.
She lay there on the table, feet still in the stirrups, arse hanging out, "Can I get dressed?" She called after the Imperiused woman. No answer came. She stood to dress, noticing the frozen ultrasound picture still hanging from the machine—her baby's first picture. A dot snuggled safely in her uterus. Hermione pulled on her skirt, just slipping on her shoes and, as an afterthought, hit the print button, snatching the picture from the printer. The nurse knocked before walking in, holding a cup of water with two pills.
Hermione stared down at the picture, feeling torn, "I think, I think I need some more time ….."
"Sweetheart, that's okay. Take a few days, you don't have to make this decision alone," She placed the cup and the pills on the counter, "Please have a seat, I'll go get you a list of resources, stay right here."
Hermione pulled two mints from her bag and transfigured them into duplicates of the pills, swapping them for the real ones.
Footsteps sounded down the hallway as the nurse came back into the room, handing her a list of adoption agencies, "You can come back when you're ready, dear, this is your choice."
"Thank you," Hermione gathered her things and left the room. The pills tucked into her purse. She stopped at the counter and paid the receptionist, making another appointment for the following week. She thought of casting Obliviate, but it seemed unnecessary. They were muggles, and she would never see them again. Turning around at the door, she released the Imperious, turned on her heel disapparating.

Apparating, while distracted, had become an art form for Hermione. Her destinations clear in her mind. Abney Park an easy walk from the townhouse she and Ronald bought. As it was still too early to go home, Hermione popped into the café.

Hot tea sounded nice, with a small cheese sandwich to settle her stomach. She couldn't handle Ron right now. She didn't trust herself not to say anything. For now, she could sit quietly, watching the children on the playground. Her hand drifted down to settle on her flat stomach, and for just a little while, she could imagine a different life.

The sun began to set, the time for her to be returning from work reared its ugly head. He expected her to be on time.

Going home always proved to be an adventure, never knowing what she would find or what mood Ron was in. Her heels clicked on the pavement in the quiet little cul-de-sac. Hermione paused as she approached the terrace house. She hated this neighborhood, hated Hackney. It was what they could afford at the time. It looked like they were here to stay with Ron getting fired.

Lights were on, that meant Ron would be home, Reggae music drifted through the windows. Soft and tropical. Ron would be inebriated as his usual. The smell of grease hit her as she opened the door, dinner on the table. Take -out, of course.

"Ronald, I'm home," Hermione pushed through the door, setting her purse down by the couch. Scanning the room as she did.

"Hey, Baby, how was your day?" He appeared halfway sober, "I brought some take-away home if you're hungry." Body odor coupled with cheap ale rolled off him. Florescent light from the kitchen glared off his pallid skin, dark hallowed circles around his eyes. The drinking was beginning to take its toll.

Seconds ticked by in awkward silence, "No thanks, I'm tired, I think I'll just shower before I head to bed." Nauseated from the stench, she just wanted to get far away from him.

He stood in the doorway, swaying against the frame, "What are you mad about?" Nastiness edged his voice.

"I'm not mad, Ron, I'm tired."

"Then why won't you have dinner with me? I bought it for you … your favorite ...I went to Beer and Burger, bacon cheeseburgers and chips." Ronald sounded more like a thirteen-year-old boy than a grown man.

Ronald progressed to frequenting muggle pubs, and that's what he brought home cold greasy pub food. Guaranteed he drank all day at the Beer and Burger, she would bet he just staggered through the door.

She was right, greasy pub food sat on the table. She would make an attempt to eat it, or there would be a fight all night. Involuntarily she made a noise of disgust. Dirty dishes on the counters, piled in the sink from the night before, "You could help me, Ron," She couldn't have this baby, she already had one. A big drunk baby.

He stood behind her, arms wrapping around her waist, he bent down and nuzzled her neck, "Why don't we forget about the burgers and …" Ron nipped at her neck.

Hermione's stomach rolled at the feel of his lips against her skin. An uncontrolled gag slipped out, she lurched toward the sink. Hit further with the stench of dirty dishes mingled with his breath, she vomited up the little cheese sandwich and tea.

"Well, isn't that just bloody fucking amazing!" Ron growled. Did he ask if she were alright? No, it would be an excuse to attack her, "I kiss you, and you fucking start puking …. What the fuck, Hermione?"

Her panicked mind began to backpedal, she didn't want to fight. She felt him move up behind her, his fingers threading through her hair. He was escalating. She could feel it.

Ronald leaned in, whispering in her ear, "I said what the fuck Hermione?... Who are you fucking? Because it's sure the fuck, not me!" His fingers closed tight, pulling her hair. Unstable anger rolled off him in waves.

Hermione clung to the sink, not moving. Ron towered over her pressing her into the counter. For all his faults, she couldn't deny his power as a wizard. It was easy to forget. He might be dumber than a box full of rocks, but he was powerful. Her mind raced, she needed to talk him down again, but this time felt different. Her instincts screamed for her to get out, as a familiar hardness pressed against her backside. Of course, he could get it up now.

Ron had her face pressed painfully against the edge of the sink, as she felt him lift her skirt. Her wand knocked from the holster, hitting the tile floor. Course hands tore away at her knickers. This wasn't the first time Ronald pushed himself on her. It was the first time done with violence.

"You know what Mione, I don't care who you're fucking," Spittle ran down her cheek as he hissed in her ear, "But you will fuck me and bitch I had better hear you moaning my name!" He gripped her hair sharply, pulling upwards.

Her head slammed into the metal sink, splitting her lip. Stars danced in her eyes, she vomited once more. A buzzing filled the room as Ronald pushed his cock inside her. Her head crashed into the sink knocking a tooth loose. She screamed, earning her a punch, "Please, please Ronald," There would be only one way to get him to cease the attack, "Ronald, I'm pregnant… Ronald, I'm pregnant! Stop."

"You're lying," He paused, pulling out and backing away from her.

"I'm not lying, I swear I found out today," Gasping for breath, she stood up, steadying herself against the counter, blood smeared across her face. Holding out her hands in defense, "I have proof, I have proof in my bag. I have a picture from a muggle, Dr., please, Ron. Please stop. I'll show you." Hermione edged toward the door, her eyes never leaving Ron.

Ronald tucked himself back into his trousers, still scowling, eyes glaring he slowly followed her into their living room.

Hermione staggered to the couch. It took a minute for her to find what she was looking for. With trembling hands, she showed Ron the ultrasound picture from her bag.

"What's this, that's not proof. I don't even know what that is." He scoffed at her, "Even if you are pregnant, what's to say it's even mine."

"The dot that's circled… that's our baby Ron." Blood dripped onto the carpet and slid down her throat, her tooth wiggled as she spoke, "Use your wand, do the spell, you know it… Don't you?" Her wand still lay in the kitchen, and if she were to make it out of this alive, she would need to get her wand, "I'll show you…please, Ronald, let me show you." Her voice barely above a whisper.

Ronald pulled out his wand, "I know how to fucking do it! I just forgot! I'm a pureblood!" His words slurred, "Unlike you! I know things that you don't because..." It was on the tip of his tongue. That ugly word, the one carved into her arm.

Hermione underestimated just how drunk Ronald was, "You're not the only one that knows how to do magic, you know-it-all cunt!"

Hermione recoiled as he raged. She was in survival mode.

"This will also prove if you've cheated on me, but then you know that, don't you." The smirk on his face let her know he had his doubts. Ronald whispered the spell, pointing the tip of the wand at her abdomen.

She would have a glow surrounding her for the next few hours as a result of a positive test, and the reason she chose the muggle test. The last thing she wanted to do was advertise that she was pregnant while at work. The secret was out now. His mother would know in the next few minutes and the entire wizarding world by morning.

Hermione's womb glowed pale blue and gold, it was a boy and gold to signify her fidelity. An archaic pure blood practice to ensure the family line, "Our son Ronald, I was going to tell you over dinner. I've been nauseated all day. It's not you... It's the baby." She needed to get him back into the kitchen, "Come on, I'll warm up dinner. Maybe some chips will settle my stomach."

Ronald swayed in front of her, and for a moment she thought he might hit her again, "You should have told me sooner, Luv, I wouldn't have been angry with you."

He reached up, finger tracing her cut lip, "You should be more careful, can't have you falling if you're carrying our son now, can we. 'Episkey' that should do it," Ron smiled at her as if he hadn't done anything.

"Now let's go eat and then we can Floo call mum and tell her the news… and you should get cleaned up before we call. We don't want her to think you're reckless and flitting about while carrying her grandson."

Ron put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, pushing her towards the kitchen. Her mind racing, heart fluttering like a trapped bird. If Molly found out, there would be no leaving, no escape. She would be tied to Ronald and the entire Weasley clan forever.

Hermione took the bags of take-out from the table and pulled two plates from the cupboard, casually picking up her wand. She reheated the food, serving Ronald first.

"Hey, bring me a beer, we should celebrate... bring me two… I have to tell Harry!"

Panic began to creep up her spine. She couldn't do this anymore, pretending everything was perfect. She stood at the sink staring at the blood-smeared counter and the dirty dishes, her torn knickers balled up on the floor. She could hear Ron eating, the same revolting sounds he made when they had sex. She stared at the empty beer bottles, cigarette butts floating in the warm dregs. Swishing her wand, the dishes scrubbed themselves. It was hopeless, she would never find her parents.

"Mione, come and eat… What are you doing over there? You can clean up later," Mumbled with a full mouth, "Stop pouting, it was a little row …all is forgiven luv," His bottle clinked as he set it down, empty, "Mmmuff…If you're not going to eat, go get cleaned up. I want to go tell mum in person …"

Hermione didn't think, for once, she reacted. Spinning on her heel, wand in hand. "OBLIVIATE!"

Said with such force, Ronald hit the opposite wall, knocked unconscious, blood leaking from his ears. Food falling from his mouth.

At one point in time, Hermione thought she loved Ronald, she thought Ron loved her. How could someone who loved you, hurt you? How long would he continue to use the Horcrux as an excuse for his behavior? Merlin's bollocks Hermione knew Death Eaters, who took more responsibility for their actions than Ronald did.