********TRIGGER WARNING FOR THIS CHAPTER: This chapter does involve physical abuse and hints at sexual abuse!***********

Chapter 2
The Surprises along the Road to Recovery

24 November 2002
the Burrow
Ottery St. Catchpole

"Hermione," a soft voice said in a gentle tone as equally gentle hands shook her awake. Hermione shifted and blinked sleepy eyes as she sat upright, feeling entirely too well rested considering the brevity of the nap she'd taken. Glancing up towards the voice she saw the familiar green eyes smiling down at her.

"I'm sorry, Harry. How long was I asleep?" She asked as she stretched a little, wincing when her body reminded her of her still-healing injuries. No stretching check.

"You were out for a good hour, I wasn't going to wake you but Mrs. Weasley just said that dinner's ready," he said as he rose from the arm of the chair, offering her a hand up off the couch.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep let alone for as long as I did," she said sheepishly, accepting his hand and pulling herself to her feet. He didn't bother releasing her hand as he led her towards the Burrow's kitchen where the rest of the family was already gathering. Once inside, Hermione smiled inwardly as she gazed around at all the familiar faces, then an outward frown crossed her expression.

"Has Ron not come back yet?" She asked softly, letting go of Harry's hand and stepping further into the kitchen.

"No, he's still throwing a tantrum and acting like a prat," George said with a shrug.

"Don't worry about him, Hermione," Fred added. "He'll come around eventually, you know he's always been one to sulk a while before seeing reason."

The young witch sighed quietly as she thought over the situation, "I think I should probably go talk to him."

"Hermione, you're not required to explain yourself to him, regardless of how big of a fit he wants to throw over it," Harry said quietly from behind her.

"Yes, I do, Harry," she replied as she turned to look at him. "I owe you, Ron, and everyone else one hell of an explanation. And if giving it to him sooner than I'm entirely comfortable with will get him to realize that I didn't intentionally abandon any of you…then so be it. I'll do what needs to be done and, hopefully, be better for it."

Hermione gave a sad, distant smile as she finished statement. She gave Harry's arm a soft squeeze then moved across the kitchen towards where Molly was finishing setting the table. "Mrs. Weasley, I have a feeling this is going to be a long conversation and one easier had when he's not on an empty stomach, would you mind horribly if I took some of the dinner with me?"

"Of course not, dear," Molly said with a gentle smile. "Let me get it packed up for you." With a quick flick of her wand, a basket zipped from the cabinets along with a few containers to hold food. Immediately the containers filled themselves to the brim and settled themselves into the basket. Another flick and two butterbeers landed nestled in with the containers of food. Molly grabbed the basket and handed it over to Hermione, smiling once again. "He usually tends to go out over the hill, there's a small stream right inside the tree line…that's where you'll probably find him."

"Thank you," Hermione said, graciously accepting the basket and heading towards the door, feeling particular eyes on her back as she left. It didn't take long to find the tree line, nor did it take long to pick out the head of bright red hair sitting amongst the leafless trees. Silently, she made her way towards her old friend. She could feel nerves beginning to get the best of her again.

"Why are you out here, Hermione?" Ron said in a tired, quiet voice.

"I thought you'd probably be hungry, I didn't want you missing dinner on my account," Hermione replied, as she sat near and across from him on the ground. "Plus, I figured that it was about time someone got the full story and reasoning out of me, and I thought you might be the best person to start with telling."

Ron leaned forward, resting his elbows on his bent knees, looking straight forward. His eyes wandered over the trees and the stream, seemingly anywhere but at her, his expression mirroring the battle between anger, betrayal and resignation that was going on inside his mind. After a moment he sighed and shook his head, "I don't know that it'll make a difference, but I'll try to listen."

He couldn't help but think over the last few years without her there. He'd be a liar if he claimed he didn't feel hurt and betrayed by her disappearance. He didn't think he knew of anyone that really liked that Daniel. Which surely meant that his anger wasn't purely out of jealousy, right? But he knew Hermione, even after all these years, he knew her. And he knew the woman sitting timidly-wait timidly? Hermione was known for being a lot of things but timid was scarcely ever one of them-beside him now was still Hermione Granger, and Hermione Granger always had a good reason for the things she'd do. He only hoped he could lid his temper long enough to hear her out.

Hermione watched him silently for a moment, he really had grown up. Last time she'd seen him, he wouldn't have blown over his temper this quickly. She took a deep breath and looked down at her hands, rubbing them together anxiously as she was recently known to do before folding them in her lap as she began to speak. The tremble in her voice betraying just how difficult of a time she was having attempting to speak about her nightmare. "When I first left, I was happy with him. I really was. He was so very sweet and attentive. And I sent letters to you, your family, my family, Harry, everyone for the first few months. By June, I only got a handful here and there in response. By September, I wasn't getting any responses. I remember the disappointment that September thinking that you were all so angry with me that you'd not even cared that my birthday had come and gone."

"We've been sending you letters all along!" Ron interrupted accusingly. He knew, for a fact, that Harry and Ginny at very least continued to write her letters the entire time that she was gone.

Hermione raised her hand, shook her head and took a ragged breath, "Let me speak, Ron, please. This isn't easy. Let me get through the whole thing and I swear to you, I'll answer any of your questions that I can. But please, let me get through this first." Swallowing thickly, she took another shaky breath before beginning again "By Christmas I'd assumed everyone here'd all but given up on me. I sent out letters every chance I could by owl and by regular post, but never did I get anything in response."

Hermione paused to take a deep and stricken breath as she started to think over what she was about to say next, her eyes locked back onto her folded hands, but feeling his gaze finally turned onto her. "After Christmas, everything went very bad, very fast. I still don't know what caused the change and I probably never will. It was as though a timer had gone off and my time was up. By April, I was hiding from him. His screaming. Always screaming. His hurting hands. The beatings I could have learned to live with, sad as it is it was his twisted sense of what love was supposed to be that finally broke me. H-He'd nearly killed me just after it begun. A-and at the time, I sincerely wished that he would just do it and let me go."

"By October, I was lucky to still be walking and breathing each and every day. Even then it was difficult to do, normally, but at least I could. But I can't even call it a blessing. I was in bad shape, Ron. I can't count how many times he'd nearly did me in, always expecting me to, at very least, act like normal by morning. Even if I was hurting so bad I couldn't see straight, I wasn't allowed to let it show. He'd intentionally keep all the injuries off of my face so that when he took me out to parade me around-which he did frequently-there would be nothing for anyone to suspect. He would always make sure I was dressed in such lavish garments and jewelry as though I should be grateful to be out with him. In a way, I was I suppose. At least when we were out with his friends he couldn't physically do me any harm. Not with anyone to witness it. That didn't stop him once we got back home, though."

She paused a moment to wipe away the tears that she swore she wouldn't cry and to try to regain some composure. Feeling his intent stare on her, she took another deep breath and exhaled heavily before beginning again, it taking all her self-control to keep her calm. "Every small thing I did wrong, in his eyes, I was punished for. Of course, there were very few things that I did correctly in his eyes by that time. "No" and "Stop", were virtually nonexistent with him by that point and only served to piss him off further and make whatever he was doing that much worse. I was so lost and alone. I hadn't even heard from my parents in almost a year."

"There was finally one night, I was in on the floor by the fireplace-the floor was the only place that he'd allow me to dirty in the living room-and he came in with envelopes, yelling and screaming and screaming," her gaze lifted and her eyes closed in the memory, "Telling me that he'd already warned me about trying to contact anyone from back here. Going on about how I'd gotten letters from Harry and Ginny and a few others. I was so confused. I'd not been allowed a wand let alone an owl in months. He threw them in the fire and…and really put effort into making his point that night. I suppose that I can only be thankful to muscle memory by that point. I didn't physically feel anything at the time. I felt it after, of course, but by that time I was simply numb during the acts."

At that point she felt Ron move over to sit next to her, carefully taking her hand into his much bigger one and squeezing gently in support, "What happened, 'Mione?"

She swallowed thickly and started speaking again, tears falling unchecked, "I'd blacked out, like I often did by that point in time. He left sometime while I was out, probably to one of his other girlfriends, I really didn't care, between the pain of what he'd done during the blackout and the curiosity about the letters he'd thrown into the fire. I didn't care where he went, but I suddenly had to know what he was talking about. I went into his office, which was going against one of the biggest rules he had in place for me had he found me there he likely would have killed me, and I started looking around. I found several large stacks of letters. From everyone. All bound in string and hidden in his desk drawers. "

He squeezed her hand again as he listened and she held on tightly to his as though it was a lifeline back to reality from the heart-wrenching story she told, "I found the box in the closet that had all my things from school. My wand. My photo album. It really snapped me back into reality when I saw that photograph of you, me, and Harry during my S.P.E.W. phase. I kept asking myself, what happened to that Hermione? I felt resolution like I'd not felt in years. I knew I had to get out of there. Then, through my digging around, I'd also found his gun." At Ron's confused expression she explained, "A gun is a muggle weapon. It shoots metal at a very, very fast speed that can be deadly. Anyway, that morning when he came home again as he always did, expecting me to pretend everything was absolutely fine, and…he started in on me again and…and I'd had enough and he tried to take it from me and…and it went off. I-I k-killed him."

Her words drifted off amidst her tears and Ron checked his anger with the poor excuse for a man and pulled her to him, allowing her to lean into his chest. She buried her face into him as she let all the tears from the last year pour from her heart. There was a twisted sort of relief that talking to someone drew from her heart. Hermione had known she needed to talk about everything. But as it did with most people, pride had gotten in the way. Maybe it was a good thing she forced herself to tell Ron. Even if she would be hard-pressed to repeat the story to anyone else anytime soon.

A short while later she pulled away and wiped her face with her sleeve and looked around the wooded area and then back down to the ground, "I'm sorry that I left, I'm sorry that it took me so long to figure out what was going on. I'm so, so sorry."

Ron shook his head slowly, mentally kicking himself for the way he'd treated her when he'd first seen her that evening, "No, I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm sorry I didn't notice that something wasn't right and come out there and help you." Oh the things he'd have done to that man, had he had any inkling of what was happening to Hermione.

She smiled sadly and looked up at him, "You couldn't have known."

Sighing just as sadly, he pulled her back into a hug and held her tightly, not saying a word. She rested her head against his chest and they sat there in companionable silence for a short time. Hermione heard the smile in his voice when he spoke, "So, uh, Hermione…what about that food?"

A slow grin grew on her expression and Hermione pulled away from him laughing and reached for the basket, ignoring her ribs' sharp protests. "One thing will never change, Ronald Weasley, and that's your appetite," she said with chuckle as she unloaded the contents and set them out around on the ground.

The conversations continued, on a much lighter note for well over an hour. Hermione felt so relieved that she'd managed to at least start the mend on her friendship with him. It was well near dark when they repacked the basket and headed back towards the house in companionable silence, Ron resting a protective arm over her shoulders and, Hermione, allowing him to do so. It was nice to feel protected and secure. They were nearly half way there when they noticed Harry making his way towards them.

When he saw them, he smiled warmly, "Well it looks like you two settled everything?"

Hermione nodded as Ron spoke, "I'm a little dense at times but I get the hint when it's thrown at me."

The three friends shared a chuckle and Harry spoke, "Hermione, you mind if I have a word?"

She glanced at Ron who shrugged and hugged her tightly and took the basket from her before he started back towards the house once again, "I'll see you two there."

Harry watched her silently until the red head was out of sight and immediately pulled her into a strong hug. "Harry?" She said, worriedly, as she slipped her arms around him returning the hug, "are you alright?"

"No, Hermione, I'm not alright," He said quietly. "I hope you'll forgive me, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but you'd been gone a little while and I know how Ron can be and I just went to check to make sure you were okay…that Ron hadn't said or done anything stupid…and…and I heard everything. Merlin, Hermione. I wish I could have been there for you, the way you've always been for me."

Hermione couldn't bring herself to be angry at him for listening into the conversation, instead she just held on tighter and put her head against his chest comfortably, she drew a shaky breath and let herself smile, "I don't hold it against you, or anyone else, Harry. It was a horrible ordeal but it's over now. I'm working to get past it, I'm working to get rid of the nightmares and the panic attacks. But it's going to take a while. It's not something that's going to go away overnight, no matter how much I wish that were the case. Be here for me now and don't worry that you couldn't be there then. Okay?"

Harry kissed the top of her head gently and nodded, "Okay, Hermione. I'm always here for you 'Mione, please don't forget that."

"I won't," Hermione said, cuddling closer into the embrace without really noticing it.

After a moment they broke from the hug and Hermione reached up and gave her friend a small kiss on the cheek before they turned and made their way towards the house, once again. She couldn't help but feel in a better, lighter, happier mood than she'd been in for some time. She was home. She was around people she loved, who no longer seemed to hate her.

Harry took her hand gently in his as they walked, his mind, as Ron's had done earlier, wrapping around the story he'd heard. He'd always been prepared for the stories of the Death Eaters and the way they and Voldemort had treated people. He'd gotten used to the Dursley's twisted ways of treating him. But there wasn't much of anything that would have prepared him for the realization of the type of person Daniel had been. Perhaps the man was lucky that Hermione had ended his existence before he had to endure what Harry and the rest of the people who loved Hermione would have come up with.

He sniggered inwardly at the thought of what the Twins would have come up with.

Once back inside the kitchen, Hermione sighed inwardly as she felt the curious glances of the Weasley household on her back. Anyone who knew Ron would have known that whatever she'd said to him had calmed his anger towards her, but amplified it towards another direction. They, of course, were curious as to what that other direction consisted of.

She steeled herself to face them, hoping no one would outright start asking her questions. Her two best friends knew her story…that was plenty for now. As though reading her mind, Mrs. Weasley started ushering her children around to get them to help her clean up the dishes from dinner.

"Alright, dear?" the elder witch asked quietly.

"I will be," Hermione said, offering the witch a small smile. "I definitely will be, Mrs. Weasley, thank you."

Later that evening, after persuading the reluctant Hermione to stay the night at the Burrow, she found herself sitting on the transfigured bed with Ginny in the younger witch's childhood room. The two young women had been idly talking for the past hour or so, rather Ginny was talking and Hermione was listening.

She'd learned that the twins' shop had blossomed into a pretty decent sized chain over the previous two years. Charlie had managed to gain one of the most senior positions at the dragon reservation. Percy had started to become a little closer with the family though was still mostly distant. Ginny herself seemed to have taken up where Hermione left off on the St. Mungo's Healer apprenticeship. It was nice to get caught up on what she'd missed.

Ginny smiled slightly when she saw the elder witch fight to stifle a yawn and tilted her head, "Maybe we should try to get some sleep. Probably been a pretty hectic day for you, yeah?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly and nodded, "Definitely been a good bit of excitement for one day." It was a testament to how tired she was and how comfortable she'd allowed herself to become that she began undressing and changing into the earlier loaned pajamas without thought to the state of her body and Ginny being in the room. It wasn't until she heard a strangled gasp from the room's other occupant that she realized her mistake.

Ginny moved towards her and her fingers ghosted over the yellowed bruises that covered her torso. "Oh no, no, Hermione…" the girl whispered, pushing Hermione's hands out of the way when she'd tried to cover herself. The redheaded witch slowly circled her friend taking in the damage that had been done, hands gently feeling the yet unhealed broken ribs and bruises.

"Have you had any of this looked at?" she asked quietly.

Hermione shook her head, feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. "No, I've mostly been trying to keep it all from even being seen."

"You haven't healed it?" Ginny asked curiously.

"I hadn't used my wand in nearly a year, I didn't feel comfortable trying to heal myself without the practice."

"Do you want me to heal what I can of it?"

A look of relief crossed Hermione's expression. To heal the injuries would get rid of the regular unwanted reminders, not only that but no one else would have to see her this way. "Could you, please?"

Ginny smiled gently and got her wand from the table between the two beds. "I'll have to do a diagnostic over you first to see the full extent 'cause it'll have to be done in layers so nothing gets over looked and messed up," she explained, flicking her wand in an intricate pattern as she circled Hermione. Ginny was thankful that the diagnostic charm was one of the first, and most basic, charms that she had been taught during her apprenticeship. When the charm was complete, Ginny seemed to pale beneath her heavy layer of freckles.

"This might be a little bit more difficult than I'd thought it would be, Hermione," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly before being forced into a neutral tone.

"Why is that?"

"There's extensive damage, your body's not healed properly and to actually heal it all it'll require a lot of work. A lot of which I don't know how to do yet," Ginny replied in the same neutral tone. "But…that's not all…Hermione, can I ask you a personal question?" Hermione looked slightly uneasy, not particularly liking where this train of conversation was leading, but nodded wearily in consent nonetheless. Ginny licked her lips nervously before taking a deep and centering breath before she launched into her question, as though asking it faster would make it easier to handle, "W-When was your last period?"

The feeling of an icy dread darted down her spine at what she knew the result of this line of question might be. "About six months ago, I think. I know that I've spotted quite a bit but I always contributed that to…to other things."

"That's not completely surprising taking into account the amount of stress your body's been under, it's known that trauma or stress can cause a woman's body to basically go into "survival mode", but…Hermione…unless the Charm is very much mistaken…you're-you're pregnant. About three months if the diagnostic charm is to be trusted," Ginny said, watching her friend wearily.

Hermione visibly paled as her breathing started coming in gasps and her head began to swim, panic seeping through her system. Pregnant. Why? Why, why, why? Hadn't he already broken her enough without adding this on top of it all? She was still struggling to care for herself, how in the name of everything that is good, was she going to be able to take care of a child as well?

After that train of thought, Hermione thought and felt nothing. It was only out of reflex that Ginny was quick enough to catch the older witch before she hit the floor and edge her over to the bed. Before fleeing the room-mindful enough to close the door behind her-in search of the one person who would undoubtedly know exactly what to do-her mum.