"No, Molly. I haven't heard from Ron in weeks." Hermione struggled to keep the sobs out of her voice. Molly Weasley already felt bad enough for her son's actions, she didn't want to make her feel even worse. "Thank you for calling, though. I'll see you in a few days." Despite everything that had happened, the Weasley's were the only family she had.
Hanging the phone up, she went into the small room that her parents had set up as a dual office. Hermione had started packing away their dentistry books and files, seeing no reason to keep them out. She was so busy concentrating on organizing everything perfectly that she didn't hear the distinct pop that came from the back yard. She didn't look up from her work until there was a loud pounding sound on the back door.
Trusting the enchantments she had placed on the house long ago, Hermione didn't bother to fetch her wand. When she opened the door, a very drunk Ron stared back at her with hate in his eyes. "What are you doing here, Ron?"
He rocked back and forth, threatening to fall over. She could see his eyes trying to focus on her through the haze. "Whaddam I doin' 'ere? Whadder you doin' 'ere?" He pointed at her with a silver flask that smelled distinctly of fire-whiskey.
"Give me the flask, Ron. You're done." She stepped closer to grab it from him and was backhanded across the kitchen. Once her wits came back to her, she recognized the taste of blood in her mouth. Not again...
"Where is he!" Ron staggered through the kitchen and into the small living room pointing his wand into every corner that a person could hide in. "I know he's here!"
Hermione was more confused, her head throbbing from its impact with the tile floor. Ron had become a bit of a drunk since the war. Harry and Ginny had renewed their relationship, spending less time with Ron and Hermione. With each new job he took as an Auror, he saw worse and worse parts of the post-war world. When Hermione's parents had died in a car crash, after everything she had went through to keep them safe from Voldemort, Ron crossed the line. In one of his drunken stupors, he had told her that they were only "stupid Muggles, so who cares anyway."
That night she left him and moved to her parents.
"What are you talking about, Ron?" She leaned on the archway from the kitchen to the living room, watching him dart in and out of the office and the laundry room. He even spent time in the garage that Hermione never ventured into. All the while he seemed to be in a crazy, drunken rage.
"KRUM! That's who the bloody hell I'm talking about!" Hermione couldn't believe what he was saying. He made for the staircase leading to the bedrooms. "I know he's here, you cheating whore!"
She was frozen to the spot. He had ranted before, but never like this. For the first time since he walked through the door, she was truly afraid. She heard glass shatter and a string of curses. Mom's vase. She saw red.
Running up the stairs two at a time, she rounded the corner to their bedroom where the vase lay broken by the bed. A part of her heart died. Ron came out of the master bathroom and hit her with a spell. Wandless, she flew out the door, through the hall and into the opposite wall above her own bed. She heard the crack of a rib.
Ron stalked to the bed where she lay gasping for breath. Her head fell to the side and she could see her wand laying on her dresser across the room. She needed to reach it. Think. Think of something. Anything!
"Ron, no one is here. I haven't been seeing anyone." She tried to sound as calm as possible. Maybe if she could distract him into letting her near the dresser she could stop him.
She stumbled to her feet and moved to the bathroom door, away from the dresser. Like she was hoping, Ron hadn't noticed her wand and thought she was escaping to the safety of the bathroom. He shot another spell at her and Hermione was pulled backwards, landing at the foot of the dresser. Unfortunately for Ron, the spell threw him off balance and he stumbled, dropping his flask.
While he was drunkenly searching for it, Hermione grabbed her wand and tried to think of a solution. Her mind was still fuzzy from the falls and she couldn't think of what to do. Yes, Ron had no qualms with harming her, especially when drunk. And she had never seen him this drunk. She had nowhere to go. Maybe it was the possible concussion, or the possible sight of Draco across the bar room, but Hermione's mind went to the day she was captured and tortured by Bellatrix.
She heard Ron shout in triumph when he finally grabbed the flask from under the bed. He stood up and began to utter another spell. In an instant Hermione had disapparated. She landed on a cold stone floor. The room was silent and the floor cool against her bruised skin. Before she could even think of calling for help she drifted into darkness.