The final installment. Thank you to the people who've read this, it's very nice of you to spend your time reading my work :)
No copyright infringement intended, as always.

"So… you cheated?"

His entire body shook with what he would say was anguish – she would argue guilt. His face scarcely recognisable from tear marks and sore, chapped skin, he raised his head and gazed at her. She glared.

"What?"

*

"So, you kissed her right?"

He said nothing, or perhaps he did and she simply hadn't deciphered the words – she didn't care.

"It was more than a kiss? You fucked her."

*

She could pin point the exact moment it had happened. She had accused him, he hadn't denied. He may as well have run about the place waving a banner with the words "WHY YES DEAR, I FUCKED HER" emblazoned across. It was crude, disgustingly so. From that point on, all Hermione could process or remember were expanses of darkness, a haunting darkness combined with a sickening emptiness. Similar to the hunger felt by a starving man, yet no amount of over indulgence could tame the pangs. She had no desire to tell anyone about it, if they found out then by all means they could enjoy the gossip if they liked, of course however it would pass, like every bit of gossip does. Inevitably something more interesting and extreme will come along, and the story about Ron Weasley and the Mystery Girl from Accounting would be all but obsolete. She gave it a month – tops.

*

"She means nothing to me; it was a spur of the moment thing. I'd had something to drink and it happened, I'll swear to you now I did not plan it, I did no such thing."

"Hoorah for you, Ronald Weasley."

"Say something Hermione: shout at me, hit me, say you hate me and want to kill me right here and now. Say something."

"Hoorah?"

"It was…"

"A bad decision?"

*

The second he told her, she thought she may have been sick. She couldn't quite remember for certain but she could vividly recall the definite feeling of nausea.

She felt hollow, a hole she couldn't fill.

She felt betrayed, trust that was once sacred to her, thrown away – discarded.

She felt numb; nothing seemed the right emotion, nothing was enough.

She felt alone, the only person she had counted on, let her down.
She felt humiliated; she had given everything, including herself.

She felt, childish, sad, and heart-broken.

That was all she had. She had gone from so much, to so little - from everything, to nothing, it was out of her hands, and out of her control. She shouldn't have given someone the power to break her in such cruel ways and she wouldn't again; she knew someone can only be broken into so many pieces before they're completely unrecognisable.