Draco POV
When I had watched her leave the house going out to shop for more groceries, I tried to keep to myself, and dig out the bit of wizarding money I had brought with me. I would need to exchange it for some muggle currency. But the look in her eyes when she told me that she was keeping secrets haunted me. I felt that I needed to know what kind of secrets she needed to hide that made her look so... dead inside. There were things that she shouldn't hide because of what she's been through in her life. So I crept up to her library, and putting alarms on the door so that I would know if she was here or not, and I shut the door behind me. I searched the titles of her books, nothing struck me as odd. But when I opened her desk drawer, what caught my eyes had me choking back tears. The drawer on the inside was stained with blood. There was a dagger in it. It looked pristine, but with closer inspection, I could tell that it was charmed to hide it's grime from the rest of the world. I lifted the charm and I couldn't believe what I had seen. Engraved in the blade, it said "murderer". The tips were permanently stained with blood, and blood caked the engraving. As if to punish me further, the dagger looked exactly like the one my aunt Bellatrix had used on her. And the magic that was infused with it told me that it held the same purpose as well. The scars that this particular blade left would never fade, and there will always be a slight pain there. Looking further, there were vials of memories. There were four of them. And I could tell that each vial held more than one memory. I saw that she kept a pensieve in the room, and I took each vial and poured it's contents into the liquid. I put my face near the bowl, and was sucked into her memory.
She was sitting on the floor in her bedroom crying, writing in a book that looked like it could be a journal. Ron came into the room, demanding why she hadn't made dinner yet.
"I don't know. I... I just can't right now Ron, I'm sorry. I'm sure your mother would love having you over..."
"Why the hell are you crying? It's not like this has happened to you. You killed him, you never wanted a fucking child anyway." She began to cry harder. I watched as Ron walked over and pulled her to a standing position by her long and beautiful hair.
"Ow! Ron, stop it! I am your wife, not a doll to just throw around!" She screamed at him. I noticed that Ron's eyes were bloodshot. He had definitely been drinking. As Ron threw Hermione across the room though, the memory faded, as if she had lost consciousness. And seeing how hard she had been thrown, I highly believed that that was the case.
The next memory found me in the library. Ron and Hermione were in there, looking like they were forcing the Christmas cheer. Ron opened his present to find new quidditch robes. But what Hermione had in her box made me hiss in anger. The dagger that had said "murderer" sat there in all it's sadistic glory, engraving and all, on top of what looked to be ultrasound photos. The photos were obviously of a fetus. Hermione looked up at Ron in horror.
"Now, I want you to kill yourself." Ron whispered to her, almost gleefully. "Kill yourself, like you killed our son."
When Hermione shook her head, and put the box down and got up from her seat, Ron roared with hatred and anger, taking the dagger out of the box and lunged at her. He cut deep enough to cause pain and draw blood. Carving Hermione up like she was his Christmas feast. He carved words into her arms, words like "murderer", "Liar", "Whore", he even went so far as to carve over what Bellatrix had written in her skin, making the experience that much worse for her. But my brave girl, my brave and beautiful Hermione didn't make a sound. The memory became a tad fuzzy before Ron seemed satisfied, and pulled away.
Ron kicked her in the side, and all Hermione did was whimper. "Now, I'm filing divorce papers. You should have just listened to me and killed yourself, Mi." Ron left the room, sending a patronus to Harry saying to come quick, Hermione had attempted suicide.
The memory changed again. Ron had obviously left, but she kept the dagger. I watched as each memory unfolded. Watched as she hurt herself all over again. Cutting into those words that Ron had left in her skin. I could see that she obviously believed what was said to her, and done to her. I wanted to make Ron feel the pain that he had put my Hermione through. I pulled myself out of her memories in time to stow it all away, and leave the room before the alarms I set before I went to poke around alerted me to per presence, and I quickly apparated away before she could even get through the front door.