This chapter was so hard to read, even for me, and I wrote it. So I HIGHLY suggest you use caution when reading this chapter.
*TW* r*pe, drug abuse, suicidal thoughts, blood
She didn't know what had happened. Standing in the bathroom of her home, she stared blankly into the mirror. She could see someone looking back at her, mimicking her actions, but the woman in the reflection wasn't her.
It couldn't be.
"Where the hell have you been?"
"I'm sorry, Ron. I was coming back, I just–"
She flinched at his voice in her head. Every inch of her body felt like it was on fire. She wanted to tear her skin apart and throw it away in hopes that something new – something clean – would grow back in its place.
"Who were you with?!"
"No one, I wasn't with–"
"Don't fucking lie to me, Hermione!"
She warded the bathroom shut, sealed herself in with Silencing Charms and used her wand to turn on the shower as hot as it would go. She wanted it to burn. She didn't care if it hurt.
She couldn't even close her eyes without seeing Ron. His seething stare, glazed over from the alcohol. Couldn't hear anything but his screams, spitting venom drenched words at her when she Apparated home from Draco's flat that morning.
"You fucking slut. You think you can run around on me?!"
"I didn't, I swear–"
She didn't mean to tell Draco. She didn't mean to fall asleep. Didn't mean to stay the night.
She couldn't breathe. Her skin tingled with the lingering memory of Ron's violent touch, and she just wanted it to stop. On her neck, her stomach, her wrists, her thighs. She'd do anything for it to just stop.
"Tell me Hermione, did he touch you like this?"
She took her sponge and drowned it in soap, scrubbing her body over and over again until her skin grew red with irritation. But she could still feel him.
"You really think you'll find someone better than me?"
She squeezed her hands into shaking fists, causing her nails to cut into her palms, sending hot streams of blood down her arms. She watched it mix with the water, turning it pink as it flowed down the drain. She sank down to the floor of her shower, trembling as she hugged her knees to her chest.
"If you're going to be a slut, then fucking take it like one."
"Stop it," she whispered to herself, pleading with her mind to forget. She'd do anything to forget.
She tried to focus enough to build up her Occlumency, but it didn't work. Every wall shattered under the weight of him. Every memory slipped through the cracks, until it all became too real. Too much.
"You'll think twice the next time you try to run around on me."
"No," she spat as she stood slowly, turning off the water and stepping out, dripping mindlessly onto the tile floor. It didn't matter. She didn't care.
"...you stupid bitch..."
"Stop it," she muttered through closed teeth, clutching the basin of the sink in an ironclad grip, making her knuckles ache.
"...you are nothing..."
"STOP IT!" she screamed at the fog filled mirror, as an uncontrolled fit of wandless magic shattered it, ripping it into eerily beautiful shapes that distorted her image.
She looked more like herself this way. Broken. Shattered.
She hated him. She hated him. She should've left him and never looked back. Ran for her life before he took too much. Before he took it all. But where would she go?
No one will believe you.
This voice in her head was her own. Morphed from his string of terrifying and humiliating screams into her own hollow and low whisper.
Why would they?
She shook her head, battling with herself and squeezing her eyes shut. "Draco did," she breathed. "Draco believed me."
Draco pities you. You saw the way he looked at you. He doesn't really care. No one does.
Her breath quickened. Panicked. She hugged herself around her center, holding onto reality for dear life. "It's not true. It's not true."
It is. No one is coming to save you.
"Get the fuck out of my head!" she yelled through clenched teeth, sucking in short spells of warm air, her hands clawing at her face. Tears mixed with blood. Pink. Just like before.
You know what to do, Hermione. You can make it all go away.
She let her hands fall to her sides, daring to peek into the mirror at her fragmented reflection. The woman looking back was smiling at her. "No..."
Yes, it said to her. It's so easy.
"I can't."
Yes you can. It only takes a few.
"And if I don't wake up?"
Would that be so bad? Who would care?
She let her eyes flutter shut. It was right. She could do it. She could turn it all off. Make it all go away.
It's okay, Hermione, her mirrored image beckoned to her. It will all be okay when it's over.
Feeling distant, almost outside of herself, Hermione opened the top drawer of her vanity. She'd do anything... just to forget.
That's it. It'll all be over soon. It'll all be okay.
Taking a deep breath, she removed a Glamour Charm from a perfume bottle, revealing the little blue pills she had saved for this very moment. "It'll all be over soon," she repeated. "It'll all be okay."
No one is coming for you.
"No one is coming for me."
With quivering hands and shuddering breaths, she pulled off the cap and opened the bottle.
You can make it all go away.
"I can make it all go away."
Just do it, the voice demanded.
She looked down at her long time sanctuary, remembering the bliss that came with their sweet escape. They were the only thing that would save her now. Her only out. She could forget.
Do it.
She could forget.
Just fucking do it!
Catching one last glimpse at the broken witch in the mirror, she cried, raising the bottle to her cracked lips.
But the voice was deeper now. A man. A man she knew.
"Whenever you are ready to talk, come find me. I'm here for you. You shouldn't have to do this alone."
It was him now. Theo. Closing her hand around the bottle, she conjured herself a t-shirt and sleep shorts and reached into her charmed bag discarded on the tile floor, finding the black stone he had given her.
"It's an Apparation stone. It allows the holder to Apparate anywhere, no restrictions, no need for familiarity," he had said to her that night at the pub.
Standing tall, she stared at the demented witch in the mirror in the eyes and muttered a cold, "go fuck yourself" before she Apparated away.
***
Theo didn't get much sleep. Never had, really. Even in his adolescence he struggled to capture the peaceful essence of a night well rested. But on that night, he had somehow convinced sleep to take him under her allusive spell for the first time in what felt like centuries.
So when his wards were set off well past midnight, alerting him of a late night visitor, he almost didn't want to get out of bed. It was probably Blaise or Draco, drunk and looking for a drinking partner, and he refused to oblige, just that one night.
But there was this persistent feeling in his stomach telling him to get his arse out of bed. Begrudgingly, he rose, slipping on a pair of sleep trousers, and rubbing his eyes as he descended the stairs.
He wasn't entirely prepared to see Granger standing on his front steps, drenched in her sleepwear, as he pulled open the grand oak carved door of Nott Manor.
She spun around to face him, revealing long red lacerations that ran over both sides of her face, like she had been raking her skin. Large tears were falling from her bloodshot eyes and the expression she wore was pleading. Like she had lost grip of herself.
Like she was broken.
Theo carefully stepped outside the doorway towards her, whispering, "Granger... what–"
She held up a small clear bottle, shaking it as she let go of a humorless laugh. He could see the familiar pills rattling inside. Right there, in her hand.
"Oh, Granger, no..."
"I haven't. Not yet."
Letting her hand fall back down to her side, she shook her head as she tried to hold back her sobs. "One day, years ago, I came home from work and found my husband on the couch. Drunk. In the same place I had left him that morning. He was just sitting there, staring into the void like he didn't even recognize me. He had just failed his Auror training exam, and was denied entry to the DMLE. When I tried to reason with him, help him up, get him to bed, he lost it. Tore our cottage apart, screaming these mindless words of rage.
"I understood his grief. Tried to nurture him back to something that resembled the man I married. But he was just so... angry. And no matter what I did, or what I said, it didn't help." She began to pace the top steps, clutching the bottle in her hands like a life buoy. Like she was drowning and her only hope was the relief she held at her fingertips.
"So I shouldn't have been surprised when he hit me, right?" She continued, and Theo felt like he had been hit with a stunner to the chest at the admission. All the pieces of the story fell into place, and he finally understood what had driven her to this rock bottom.
"He was angry," she continued. "He let his temper get the best of him. Had a few too many glasses of firewhiskey. He would be better by morning, and he would never hurt me again.
"But... he's always angry, now. At something, or someone... Mostly me. I can never seem to get it right, you know? Always fucking it up, never good enough. I thought, if I could just get it right, maybe he wouldn't break my ribs shoving me into the wall because I used the wrong tone with him. Maybe he wouldn't pin me down while he put his hands around my neck because I didn't get him a new bottle of Ogdens.
"It was always my fault. I made him do it, I deserved it. That's what he told me. And I believed him. So I took the pills. These little blue tablets," she shook the bottle once more. "They made it all go away. They took away the pain, eased the sleepless nights. And fuck, it tasted sweet. I figured, what's the harm? I'd been good. I was a good wife. I earned an escape, didn't I? And I thought I had it all under control.
"Until the night you came to me and told me I had a problem," she scoffed. "I thought you were being ridiculous. I was fine, it was managed. I was handling it on my own, and just to prove it, I gave them up. Flushed them all down the bloody toilet and watched them wash away."
Theo couldn't say anything. Had no words, just stared at her, listening to her as she continued her confession.
"The withdrawal was... excruciating. But you know that, don't you, Theo? I don't have to paint you a pretty picture of what it's like to come down. And when it was all over, I was fine again. It. Was. Managed." She took another deep breath.
"I'm handling the whole 'abusive husband' situation quite well, considering. I'm excelling at my job, drafting new, groundbreaking laws. I'm fine."
She suddenly stopped her pacing, turning to face him, her stare expressionless and sweat-soaked.
"Except last night, I found my husband with his hand up some slag's skirt in an alley outside the pub. And somehow, I end up with a few new bruises because of it."
Theo felt the sting of bile rising in his throat, and his heart ached for the witch in front of him.
"Draco found me. Took me to his flat, healed my injuries. I fought so hard to keep it all in my head, but of course, he pulled me out. And the way he looked at me when I told him... Like I was a car crash, or some other great tragedy. I watched his original image of me wither away, leaving this in its place. A picture where the Golden Girl had lost her shine. And it hurt like hell, Theo."
Her features contorted in agony. Her tone lowered to a whisper, voice breaking under her words.
"I fell asleep... It was an accident, I was exhausted. I didn't mean to stay the night. But Ron didn't see it that way when I finally made it home..."
She broke off, staring at the ground and wrapping her arms around her center. Theo swallowed his feelings, shoving it all away so that he could be there for the witch who had become like a sister to him in such a short time.
He knew her pain. Was ashamed to admit he knew it well. And he would give anything to take it away from her, and carry it himself.
"Hermione," he called to her, taking strides to close the space between them. But she held out her hand, stepping backwards away from him, lip trembling.
"He hurt me, Theo... I didn't want to – but he took it anyway and I – I..." She shook her head, swiping away her tears and holding up the bottle. "Do you know the power I hold in my hand? Who needs magic when you have these?"
"No, you don't mean that."
"I do. It could all be over. I wouldn't have to... feel his hands on my hips anymore, his mouth on my neck. I don't want to feel it anymore... I'd do anything to forget."
For a moment, the only sound that filled the air between them was her heavy breathing and the cruel distant thunder. Theo wracked his brain for something he could say to make her stay. To help her climb her way out of her rock bottom. Steeling himself, he slowly raised his hands, reaching for her as he began.
"I know. I know it feels like you don't have any other choice, Hermione. People like you and me – we – we put bandages on bullet holes and pray for the best. Think that we have to have it all under control." He took subtle steps towards her, even as she sucked in a hissing breath. "But all those things that we are trying to control? We aren't supposed to control them. We're supposed to feel them."
Taking another step, he continued. "The pain. The grief. The betrayal, all of it. And it's going to hurt. It's going to completely fuck us up, but we have to let it in so that we can get through it. We can't shove it all away with Occlumency or pills. We can't run away from it anymore. You can't run away from it, Hermione. You have to let it in, so you can let it go."
"I can't," she whispered in tears.
"You can. There's more than just this horrible emptiness. I know how easy it would be to cover it all up and give in. But you're not alone, Hermione. I'm right here. You don't have to do this alone."
"If I let it all in... I'll never recover, Theo. I'll break for good."
Closing the last final steps between them, Theo looked deep into the brown eyes of Hermione Granger and said the last words he thought he'd ever say.
"Then break. Destroy it all, so that you can rebuild. It's human. It's okay to break. If anyone can come back from this, it's you, Granger. I'm right here. Please hear me when I say you don't have to do this alone."
Eyes shifting between hers, Theo slowly reached for the bottle in her grip. "It's okay, Hermione. I'm right here. You aren't alone"
Her face twinged in pain as she slowly loosened her hold on the pills. "It's okay," he said again in encouragement.
And then something clicked in her eyes, and the floodgates gates opened.
Every feeling she had been so desperate to shove aside came to light in her face, and she crumpled under the weight of it. Sobs tore through her chest as she fell to her knees, finally letting that wretched bottle hit the ground, and clinging to Theo on her way down.
"That's right, Granger. Let it in, it's okay," he cooed as she wrapped his arms around the witch, pulling her tight to his chest and stroking her hair. "You're going to be okay. You're going to get through this."
He held her as she broke, for hours or for minutes, he didn't know. He didn't care.
All he knew was she needed him. And that was okay.
***
She Apparated back to the bathroom of her cottage. Looked into the broken mirror once more before she waved her hand to mend the shards of glass back together again. She healed the cuts in her face, banished the tears from her eyes and removed the wards from the room.
When she stepped out, she saw Ron sitting on the ground by the door, hands in his hair. His head snapped open when he heard her, revealing red-rimmed, bloodshot eyes staring at her apologetically.
She couldn't give a damn about his apology.
"Mione," he sobbed. "Mione – I'm so sorry. So sorry."
He clutched at her waist from his knees, resting his forehead on her stomach, staining her shirt with his tears.
She waited for the familiar feelings of pity and loyalty and love to come. But nothing was strong enough to banish the overwhelming feeling of hatred and disgust she felt for this pathetic man. She didn't move, just stood there and let him cry, never uttering a word.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to hate him.
She would leave him. Even if it killed her.