Hermione

I hate hospitals.

I always have. Doctors and needles and florescent lights. It was all so terrifying. Not to mention that awful sterile smell that every hospital contained. So when I had to go for the exams Ron had scheduled for me, I was less than happy. I was glad that Ron would no longer be nagging me to get examined, but the atmosphere made me very uncomfortable. With so many people I cared about being injured during the war, I couldn't stand anywhere that had to do with medical care. Harry always being in and out of the hospital wing never helped my case either. So, in the end, I was terrified to sit in on an uncomfortable examination table and wait for the healer to run all the tests he possibly could on me. It took about an hour for the results to all come back. The hour was long and grueling. Ron and I sat in complete silence while we waited. I was sure the tension was almost tangible when the healer came back.

"Okay, Mrs. Weasley," he said as he walked in, looking at all the information on the results sheets. "I don't have the best news, but it's good you came here today," he informed us.

Ron was by my side, and when I glanced toward him he seemed as if he were sad about bad news, but happy that he was right. I suppose I would let him stand in his glory for a bit longer.

"Okay," I replied meekly, worried about what could be wrong with me. I certainly couldn't be dying, but by the way he said it, I may as well had dropped dead that minute. Not to mention there was the large worry added because of his long pauses. He could've been trying to think of a way to tell me that I was dying.

"The tests show you have a very high blood pressure. Right now you're at 168/104 and you should be around 117/76. Your blood pressure is almost a dangerous high and can lead to a heart attack. Your liver is also taking a hit. It's not too bad, and can easily get back it's health by cutting down on your alcohol consumption," he explained to me and I just nodded as I listened. It was all so intimidating to hear this.

The healer gave me a few more tips on lowering my blood pressure before Ron and I left. Seemed like Ron would have to start putting me on a strict diet, and he'd probably want me to start working out. I was also given a prescription for a potion to help lower it. I had decided to take it as prescribed. I really didn't want to have a heart attack. Especially since so many people die of them. I wouldn't be stopping my habit, though. Why should I have to? The potion would be enough. I was sure that my liver would be perfectly fine. Maybe the healer had ran the test wrong, or something. Or Ron had called ahead and told him to say that, attempting to scare me into stopping my habit. It wouldn't work.

Of course when we got home Ron had to say 'I told you so'. I ignored the semi-bragging moment and went back to our room. It was only something minor. I was still able to live like any other functioning person (because I was a normal functioning person with a habit many people frowned upon). Ron didn't bother following me back up to our room. I was glad for it. I had no patience left with him. When we returned home, he didn't even think about the fact of my health, only bragged about being right (which was a rare occurrence).

Being alone gave me time to think about the future. A heart attack did seem a little daunting. I would take the potions on the schedule the healer told me to. There was no reason not to; despite my suborn mind that I am always right, but that aside, I should take care of my health. If Ron and I ever did want a baby, I would have to be healthy. I'd probably also have to stop drinking…and that would be hard. Dealing with a pregnancy and withdraw at the same time. Must be hell.

About an hour later, Ron came up to our room. He knocked before entering. I was trying to fall asleep, but I couldn't manage it. My mind kept drifting back to the events at the hospital. I stayed curled up, hoping that maybe he would leave me alone, thinking I was asleep. The plan didn't work. He shook me a little bit and I opened my eyes to look up at him. He was holding a small box.

"An owl just brought this. It has your name," he explained and handed me the package.

I took the box and was going to sit it aside, but the look on his face showed that he wanted me to open it. I wasn't concerned at all with the contents of the box, but apparently he really cared. To satisfy him, I sat up and unwrapped the paper and twine around the packaging. The package really was nothing special, I realized after opening it. It was just my potions that I would have to take. I pulled out a small vial. Once daily, were the instructions from the healer.

"May as well take one now," I mumbled and sat the box aside.

The potion didn't have the best smell, or the best taste, but I would have to get over it if I wanted to be healthy. Once I began to take it every day I was sure I would get used to the smell and taste, but I would most certainly be rinsing my mouth after taking it. I couldn't have bad breath from that all day.

Once I downed the dreadful thing, I went to the bathroom, with the rest of my potions. After storing them in the medicine cabinet, I brushed my teeth. The taste was even worse with the two flavors mixing, but it was soon gone, for which I was thankful for. Ron was still in the room when I stepped back in. Ignoring his looks, I crawled back into bed and wrapped the blankets around me.

"Can you do me a favor?" I mumbled to him.

"Depends," he said slowly.

"Can you get me a drink?" I asked, looking up at him over the blanket.

He sighed and hand a hand over his face. It was a no, I took from that. I hadn't had a drink that entire day, though and I was beginning to get a headache. And my stomach was hurting a little. I had promised Ron that I would go to the healer's sober. Of course I wasn't completely sober. I had had drinks late at night the night before, but now it was getting bad. With drawl is a real problem.

"Fine," I muttered and rolled out of the bed.

I didn't want to go all the way back downstairs to get the drink, but I needed it. There has to be some kind of solution to running up and down the stairs to get my fix. Maybe I should've had a small cabinet upstairs for days like these. Ron probably wouldn't be happy about it. He would throw a fit about it and we'd end up in yet another fight. So, maybe putting a liquor cabinet in out room wasn't the best of ideas. Maybe if I talked to him first about it he wouldn't be so mad. There would be no problem, and he could deal less with me. I could stay in our room and he could have the rest of the house. That way we wouldn't have fights. Either way we'd have a fight, so I'd need time to think about it before I did anything.

So all I did was pour myself a drink and went up to our room once again. After taking the first sip, my head started to feel much, much better. My stomach was also better. The drink was such a relief for me. Ron was still sitting on the bed. Once again, I ignored him as I sat, nursing the drink in my hand. As I took a few more sips, I wished I brought the bottle with me. I would run out, then have to go back down to get more. I would bring the bottle the next time. That way I wouldn't have to leave the room. That is until I finish the bottle, which would take me about an hour. I hoped Ron wouldn't stay for much longer. I knew he was judging me as I drank. He always was, so I could never drink comfortably around him. I would've left the room, but I wanted to stay there, where I knew I could hide, even if we was in there with me.

"Hermione," he spoke up after a while and I looked up at him sheepishly.

"Ron," I replied.

"I think you should quit drinking," he told me and I frowned.

"And why's that?"

"You know why," he said, giving me a patronizing look. "The healer said so. It's negatively impacting your health. You quit drinking, your blood pressure goes down and your liver can try and heal it's self."

"I have a potion to take care of my blood pressure," I told him in an annoyed tone. "And my liver is fine. He's only saying that to scare me. You probably paid him off or something."

"No, Hermione, I didn't. He really did find that you're liver is in a bad condition. You drink way too much, and need to stop."

"Well, I'm not," I said defiantly and stood up. "Besides, it has nothing to do with you," I told him before leaving.

"It has everything to do with me," I heard him call and run after me. "I'm your husband for Merlin's sake! I'm supposed to help you or get you help when you're sick!"

"I'm not sick and I don't need help," I argued.

"Yes you do!" He shouted. "Don't you see it Hermione?" he asked and I turned to look at him. We were both standing on the stairs, him a few above me.

"See what?"

"Our marriage, Hermione. Ever since you started drinking, we've been so hostile towards each other. I wish we weren't."

"Maybe if you stopped picking fights, everything would be okay."

"Maybe if you stopped trying to deny you have an issue we could fix this and be happy again. Like old times."

I frowned and looked away from him. He was right…we were terribly hostile towards each other lately. I even did my best every day to avoid him.

"What are we going to do about it?" I asked. "Therapy wouldn't do shit. It doesn't work for anyone."

"We can start off by getting you help," he suggested with a small smile. "Send you to rehab. Get you back to functioning like a normal person. And they'll give you the potions you need."

I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. It had been so long since I was truly sober that I forgot what it felt like. Did I miss it? I don't know. Did I want to go to rehab? I don't know. And I was frightened. I always knew, and now I didn't.

A/N What did you guys think? What do you think Hermione will do? There's a little foreshadowing in previous chapters, but you can go find that yourself. I hope you enjoyed and don't forget to review!