Don't own HP
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"Harry, can I come over? Please? I really need someone to talk to," whispered the green head of his lifelong friend in his fireplace. He could see the tears trailing down Hermione's face, and he knew something horrible must have happened for her not to be able to talk to her husband, Ron.
"Of course you can! Hermione, you can come over anytime you need to, you remember that." Harry and Hermione had been the best of friends since they were eleven years old, and being in their thirties now, they loved each other in a way that nobody who had never had a friendship last that long could ever possibly understand.
"Oh, thank you, Harry," she sighed with relief. With that, the rest of her body spun into the fire and threw ash all over his living room. Quickly she stepped out, but when she tried a charm to clean up the mess, her wand just fizzled and didn't do anything. At this point, Harry knew something was very wrong. Hermione not being able to do a simple charm? Bad news.
"Um, don't worry about the mess," he said, doing the charm himself. The room was pristine again, and he shrugged it off as if he hadn't noticed she didn't do it herself. "Uh, would you like something to drink first? Tea? Firewhisky? Butterbeer? Water? Coffee?" He wanted to make Hermione as comfortable as he could, and be her shoulder to cry on.
"Oh, um..." Hermione was in the mood for tea, but she needed something that would make her be able to speak more freely. She didn't want to tell Harry about the fight she'd had with Ron, but it was bothering her so much, and she just wanted to spit it out. "I, I guess I'll have a firewhiskey, Harry." Knowing Hermione was not usually the strong booze type, even though he had offered it anyway, he raised his eyebrow at this. Hermione only drank when it was bad.
A few minutes later, he came out with the decanter and two tumblers floating in front of him, and a plate of cookies in one hand. She was sitting on the couch, her lip jutting out. The firewhiskey poured itself and floated into her waiting hand, and she chugged the whole thing right away. Now he knew whatever it was was bad. The decanter poured again, and she drank this one slower. He also drank some, letting the hot liquid scald his throat.
The tears were streaming down her face again, and she wiped them off with her dirty sleeve. "Oh, Harry..." she started, her lip quivering, her eyes overflowing, the tumbler shaking in her hand. "Harry, I had another fight with Ron. This one was so bad... Harry, he... he hit me, Harry. He hit me. I... I told him I'd been promoted, and he slapped me. Said I was rubbing it in that he couldn't get a job. Said... said he knew I was going to take Rose and Hugo, and I was going to pay for ruining his life. He... Harry, he thinks I cheated on him. He's saying all sorts of things. He's drunk all the time now. I don't think he's been sober since Hugo was born, actually. I put a binding charm on him, I bound him to the couch, and... Harry, I... I don't know what to do." She drank another full tumbler and let the glass be filled again. Harry had also finished his glass, without realising, and downed another refill.
"Hermione...I... I don't know what to say. I mean, I knew Ron was having problems with his drinking and all, but I hadn't realised how bad it was really getting. He really hit you? Where? How many times has he hit you now?" Harry's eyes were also starting to water now. He couldn't believe that his best mate would do something like this, especially not to his wife, and Harry's other best friend.
Hermione rolled her sleeves up and showed him the bruises on her arms from when he'd punched her, and she showed him the scratches on her stomach from one night when he had wanted sex and she hadn't. She told him that he had slapped her across the face, but as it was only half an hour ago, it wasn't showing yet.
Harry leaned forward and rubbed more tears away from her soft skin, and brushed her curly hair out of her face. He sat closer to her, so their thighs were touching, and pulled her head into his chest. Softly stroking her hair, he said, "Hermione, as much as I love Ron, and I love you, I can't stand for this. I won't. He may be my best mate, but..well, he might not be now, with how everything's going lately, but... Hermione, I'm here for you. I really am." He drank another full glass of firewhiskey, and the decanter magically refilled it again. Without realising it, the two of them had drank an entire bottle of an extremely strong alcohol.
