Hermione Granger Imagines

𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨; 𝘦𝘮𝘮𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘰𝘯

I guess it was bound to happen. At some point in time. The honey moon faze lasted longer than it should've. But! I wasn't the one who started things. Not that I'd ever admit if I did, I am stubborn like that. 

So that's how we got here. Emma screaming at the top of her lungs with tears streaming down her face. My face was in my hands, I'd had enough. It was always the same thing. One of us showing up late or missing something. 

They never told me when I was growing up that relationships that there would be more fighting than anything else. 

"Are you even listening to me?!" She yelled. I removed my face from my hands and looked at her. "You aren't."

"Because it's the same thing, Emma!" I stood up. 

"It really isn't," she mumbled. 

"Isn't it! What is it this time? Me being late? I have a job!" I screamed. "I'm sorry I don't make millions of dollars. I write, I take time, I have a talent for it! Excuse me for wanting to make a name for myself!"

"So you are saying I don't have talent?" She muttered. 

"That's not what I said--"

"Yes you did! You said it." 

"No I didn't Emma! Why do you have to twist my words?"

"I'm not. That's what you said, you said you had talent." She stared off. I watched as the tears ran down her cheeks. I wanted to stand up and wipe them away. "I'm leaving." 

"Fine."

"You'll just let me go? You don't even care," she sobbed. 

"I care. I am not going to keep you here if you don't want to stay." She stared out the stairs, I imagined she didn't want to look at me. 

"You don't care."

"Then I don't!" I shouted. I regretted it as soon as it left my mouth, watching her run away from me broke my heart. I heard our bedroom door slam shut. 

I tossed and turned for hours all night. I was frustrated. I stood up and wiped at my eyes. I began walking towards the bedroom. I felt paralyzed when I heard her crying, I thought she stopped crying hours ago. 

I opened the door, whispering, "Emma?" 

She didn't say anything, she fell still. I walked towards the bed. "Look. I am so sorry. I care. I care so fucking much about you. God, you should realize that by now. I love you, I am sorry. I am a moron," I let out a breath. "Please say something." 

"No. You make me so mad, Y/n. I don't want to talk to you." Her back still faced me but I could only imagine the tears were still falling. 

"No. You don't get to say that. I want to talk to you. I am in this relationship too," I muttered. "Just let me talk to you. Let me do something."

"Why? So you can just break my heart?" She whispered. "No."

"I don't care," I huffed, climbing in beside her. 

"Get out," she muttered. "Get out now."

"No." I gazed at her back. "I am not leaving." 

"Y/n, just please." 

"No. You once told me--"

"I hate you." 

"Emma--"

"I hate you," she muttered, turning to face me. "I hate you. I hate you for making me fall in love with you. I hate you for making me want you. Making me afraid to that you'll leave, I hate you," she sobbed. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." She punched after each one. I grabbed her wrist holding them against her chest. 

"Stop. Stop. You don't hate me. You are afraid. I can feel you shaking." I wrapped my arms around her, and at first she pushed me away and then finally gave in. 

"I don't want to lose you," she mumbled. 

"You aren't. You aren't," I mumbled, running my hand down her back. "We're okay," I reassured. 

--

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