III. Evil
Broken plates and broken hearts, all for her to clean up after the fight that evening; it's over something so trivial (what to name the baby? what midwife to use?) that she can't even recall the source anymore. The spats are growing oftener and oftener - so often that she sometimes wickedly dreams of ways to hurt (stupid fat oafish) Ted.
In her softer moments, her wishful attacks are comprised only of slicing words. She'd like nothing more than to call him hurtful names. It takes every measure of her will power not to tell him how impure, imperfect, and impossible he is; he's a mudblood, and she wants to blame him for making her one by association.
Less often are the moments that she actually wants to physically hurt him, but they come too, like thirsty sheep flocking to water. Her inner demons paint glorious pictures of a withering Ted, fresh from a good Crucio curse. She knows she should be repulsed, shocked, alarmed; instead comes respite, satisfaction, appeal.
(you can take the girl out of the evil family, but you can't take the evil family out of the girl.)