Come Find Me | Dramione

Chapter 1: Picture Perfect

*TW* Domestic abuse, drug and alcohol use.

Hermione stared blankly ahead in the silence of her quaint little cottage in the countryside. The only sound filling her ears was the constant ticking of the grandfather clock that stood across from her in the living area. She didn't mind the ticking. It reminded her that time never stopped. That she was still alive.

She had always imagined herself living in downtown London. But he had been adamant about a place away from the hustle and bustle of the city. And she wanted to make him happy.

Standing from where she sat on the sofa, she floated to the fireplace, eyeing the gold frame sitting atop the mantle that held a black and white moving photo. She stared at the image of her past self, blissfully happy and in love, dancing with him on their wedding day, six years ago, after the war.

"You look so beautiful, Mione," he would whisper in her ear over and over again throughout the evening. Her family and friends cried and laughed and cheered with them, the picture of a perfect couple.

She missed him. Gods, she really did.

She let her fingers lightly brush over the frame, lost in the happy memories she saved for moments like this.

She heard the almost silent crack of Apparition come from the kitchen. Flinching at the sound and bracing herself to face an entirely different version of the freckled redhead smiling at her in the picture, she straightened her shoulders.

Forcing her legs into motion, she went to meet him. She could already hear the telltale pop of the cork leaving a bottle of firewhisky, but she chose to ignore it for now.

"Hello, dear," she sang as she crossed into the kitchen, putting on the mask she forged years ago. "How was your day?"

"Shit," he mumbled, throwing back the shot he had poured.

"I was thinking stew for dinner, does that sound–?"

"I don't want fucking stew, Hermione," he clipped, cutting her off. "Just leave me be, I really don't want to deal with your shite today."

She hesitated before asking her next question. "Ron, do you think that, just for today, you could put the bottle down and–?"

The sounds of glass shattering silenced her request, as he threw the tumbler he had held across the room towards her. She flinched and backed away instinctively. He rounded on her, spitting venom in her face.

"What part of 'leave me be' do you not understand?! I thought you were supposed to be clever, Hermione?!"

She looked at the floor between them, trying to control the growing struggle of her lungs fighting for air in her chest. She hated the way her name sounded coming from his acid tongue. "I just–"

His fist met her face with a loud crack. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY FACE!"

Clutching her cheek in her hands and trying with everything she had not to focus on the pain spreading across her face from the blow, she scattered out of the room, bolting for the washroom.

She closed the door quietly, locking and warding it behind her, and casting a Silencing Charm on the room. She shuffled to the sink, gripping the basin like a lifebuoy. Her chest was heaving dangerously fast and she felt the corners of her vision go white. The pressure of heavy tears that rolled down her cheek stung against the cut from his hand.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. She should have known better than to push him. He told her he had a bad day, why hadn't she heeded the warning? She should have let him be when he asked, she couldn't believe she caused him to lose his temper like that. She thought she was learning to manage him.