Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Of Foes and Friends	By : Juliesnaps Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 14023 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: Only J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Not me. This is written for entertainment purposes only, no financial gain is made from this.

Chapter List
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~*~ Flash Back ~*~
Hermione had woken up decided. She knew the relationship she and Ron had was not what she wanted. They had been through numerous things together - things that were supposed to make you stronger - yet she still felt as if she had to do everything by herself. Not only that but she felt uncomfortable and somehow wrong whenever Ron tried to slip a hand under her shirt.
The Weasley family had started to have weekly get-togethers now that the kids were older and out of the house. Hermione knew she was going to do it that day, just wasn’t sure if she would do it before or after. She couldn’t take it anymore. That much was for sure. Hermione put on her favorite pair of jeans and a black, fitted button up shirt with delicate ruffles at the collar. She debated on wearing heels or a pair of trainers, but went for the latter. Her theory was that she’d be able to run faster in them if need be. Getting her hair semi-tame and forcing it into a braid was annoying but necessary.
Grabbing up her purse, she headed to the apparition point and felt the tug on her navel. She was still getting used to the sensation and stumbled slightly when she popped up at the Burrow. Ron was waiting for her, scuffing his feet into the ground like a small child. He smiled and held out his hand when he realized she was before him. “Hi ‘Mione,” he mumbled, leaning in for a kiss. Hermione couldn’t help herself and turned her head, “I’m sorry Ronald. I just…we have to talk.”
His hands dropped hers as he nodded his head, “we can go upstairs, to my room.” Hermione felt a little uneasy at the idea but nodded her consent anyways. She’d never been in his room alone, Harry or Ginny had always been there. Apprehension filled her as she went up the stairs. Each squeak and groan sent a tremor of nervousness down her spine.
Ron’s Quidditch roughened hands pushed open the door. Not for a moment did he consider holding it open for his witch. Instead, it almost smacked her square in the face. She stood on the precipice of his door, still debating if it was the right thing to do. “Come on, ‘Mione. I don’t bite. Promise,” he said, trying to be happy about ‘having a talk’. Placing one foot before the other, Hermione slowly made her way all the way into the room as Ron closed the door.
She lowered herself onto the bed and looked down at her nails. They were bitten down to stumps – a nervous habit she’d had since being a child. “Ron, I’m so sorry. I just don’t think I can do this anymore,” Hermione mumbled.
“Do what? Stare at your hands? ‘Mione, it’s just me.” Ron tried to place an arm around her shoulders, hoping it was a comforting gesture. Instead, it only made Hermione feel worse and she slipped away from his arm. “This,” she said, pointing between them, “I love you, but I can’t be with you. I feel like we’re two much too different people and we don’t have the same ideas of what we want in life. I want to go to school and get an education and get a good job before settling down. You won’t even think about getting your N.E.W.T.s!” At this point, Hermione was just rambling, giving up any excuse that sounded better than ‘I feel disgusted when you touch me.’
Ron stayed eerily quiet, patiently waiting for her to finish her tirade. As the words spilled out of her mouth and out into the open, his anger started to flare. Finally, when she’d run out of words to say, he stood up and grabbed onto her upper arms. His grip felt tight, too tight. Ron started shaking her, screaming at her, “you’re my witch! Mine! Nobody else’s!” Each word was accentuated by a spike of pain radiating from her arms being grasped or her body being shaken.
Roughly, he pulled her to his body, grabbed onto her hair and pulled her head back. His lips crashed into hers, demanding entry. Hermione bit down on his intruding tongue, “Ronald, stop!” she yelled when he released her out of shock. Instead of the action making him think twice, it spurred him on. She turned away, making for the door when he got hold of her shirt and ripped it clean off her body. “No, you are staying,” he panted, latching onto her waist and undid her pants.
Hermione struggled against him, kicking and screaming. She hoped somebody would hear her, yet no help came. Cold air hit her most private area as Ron bent her forward, holding her head down by her hair. Tears streamed down her face and her voice felt rough from screaming when she heard the zipper of his pants go down…
-*-*-*-
Hermione apparated directly into her bathroom, she was completely naked having left behind all her clothes. She didn’t want to go anywhere near anything Ron had touched. Her hand shot into the shower and turned the water up to as high as possible. She sat in the tub - alternating between rocking, crying and scrubbing – until there wasn't any more hot water. Pruney and exhausted, Hermione climbed out of the tub and made her way to her bedroom.
Systematically, everything Ron had touched or given her was thrown into a bag. The bag got placed in the back yard, where she started a fire. Clothes, trinkets and even books went up in flames that night. Along with Hermione’s hopes of remaining part of the extended Weasley clan. She watched the fire burn, hoping it would leave her more cleansed than the scalding shower had.
That night, she lay in bed trying her best to sleep. All Hermione could hear was his voice going, “mine. All mine. Nobody else’s.” It played on repeat in her head, a sick reminder of what had happened to her.
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Of Foes and Friends