It Should Have Been You

A/n: I have once again done battle with the horrible cliché monster, and I think I've won. I know that many of you will not like what I wrote; several readers may even become extremely angry with me. My only request is, please don't kill me. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

She looked on the mirror, and sighed heavily at the bruised reflection. He had done it again. Gotten angry. Gotten violent. She cast a quick concealment charm, and the bruise on her face disappeared. She didn't worry about the other ones. It wasn't like anyone was going to see those anyways. She closed her eyes briefly, and stiffened as a large pair of hands rested on her shoulders. She wanted to move away from the touch, her instincts along with common sense told her to stay away from the hands that hurt her, but she fought the urge. Hermione Granger knew that wasn't the best thing to do right now. It could make him angry again, and she wasn't willing to risk it. She had been hurt enough for one night. So, ignoring her instincts, she leaned into the touch, and opened her eyes. Her reflection was now joined by another figure. A tall male, with deep blue eyes, and flaming red hair.

Ron was there but she didn't know why. His face was a perfect mask of guilt and concern. She supposed he could feel a little sorry. But you could never tell with Ron. He whispered into her ear,

"It will never happen again, I promise"

But promises are made to be broken, and that was the philosophy Ron lived by. Even though she was shocked at his words, because he had never even come to her after one of his…times, she knew they were not true, because it would happen again. She knew that as long as she was with him, he would never stop hurting her, and for one very simple reason. He liked it. He liked watching her while she was in pain, liked it even more if he was the one causing it. And the only thing Hermione wanted out of life before she died was to know why. He had never used to be this way, and was only like this with her. She knew she had done something, must have done something, but he had never told her, and she had never bothered to ask.

She got up to leave, and started to walk out the door.

"Wait" he said, irritation very clear in his voice

He grabbed her wrist harshly, and she spun around to look at him, her eyes wide and fearful. Hermione hated herself for that, for showing the fear that he so eagerly wanted to see. He seemed to live off it. She saw the emotions play out on his face. First his anger at her leaving before he wanted her to, then his sick pleasure from her fear, and finally, a controlled expression of false sincerity and concern.

"What" she asked. "I'm tired, and I need to go to bed."

There was a flicker of confusion across his face, immediately replace with anger, and Hermione realized her mistake. How could she have been so stupid? That's all he wanted. That's why he was acting so strangely, almost as if he were guilty. It was just some act to get her to allow him to have his way with her. Well, it's not like she could refuse, what Ron wanted, Ron got, but it would be easier for him if she would just submit.

"I was hoping you would come with me," she added.

Ron looked for the entire world like a little kid who had gotten what he wanted for Christmas.

She woke up the next morning feeling very sore. There had been no pleasure in last night's activities. She had even tried to resist at one point, but that did nothing but earn her a few more bruises to her already battered body. Ron wasn't there, but it wasn't like she was expecting him to be. He was probably at work. After Hogwarts, Ron had become an Auror. Hermione found this to be horribly ironic. How Ron could be on the right side of things, fight for the good guys, and be so cruel and heartless at home. She just didn't understand.

She spent the day cleaning up around the house. So much good grades did for her. She was an abused housewife, all her hopes and dreams had long since taken flight, and even though she shared the house with Ron, she was completely and utterly alone. There was no one she could turn to. Harry was dead, and had been for a very long time now. Ron had never gotten over his best friend's death. It had totally changed him. He was quiet, and introverted. He didn't have any friends at the office, and except for the few occasions when he would beat his wife, he acted like she wasn't even there.

He hadn't always been this way, Hermione could even remember a time when she loved him, and she had thought he loved her too. But after the twelve long years of being married to him, she knew that wasn't true. He had never loved her. He had cared for her while they were at school, like a brother almost, but never loved. Now he didn't even care. She felt tears prick behind her eyes, and gave in to her grief. She couldn't leave, she couldn't tell anyone, she just had to deal with it, and live this miserable life. Hope wasn't even an option. She wouldn't let herself hope, because if she were let down one more time, she knew she wasn't going to get back up. She would be broken, and she wasn't about to let that happen.

She never heard Ron come in. She only felt his hands wrapped around her. Holding her, rocking her, letting her cry into his shoulder. And for a minute, she was back at school, when they used to be friends, when it seemed like nothing would ever come between them. She let the memories engulf her, and she continued to cry. After a while he held her at arms length. Hermione looked at him, and saw the Ron she used to know. The loving, caring Ron, the way he was before the war destroyed him. Then it changed. He shoved her aside, and she slammed into the wall. She heard someone crying, and for a minute thought she was listening to herself, but then she looked at Ron. It was him. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was moaning softly. His wand was held out, pointed at Hermione, and she realized with a start that she didn't have hers with her. Then he started talking.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, I'm sorry and I'm confused. Sometimes I wish things were the way they were in school, that we were still friends, and that none of this had ever happened. But it did. And we can't be friends, because it hurts too much. I can't care for you, can't love you, when all I really want is to see you cry, see you in pain, see you suffer."

Hermione was crying again.

"Why! What did I ever do to you? Please tell me Ron. Please tell me, I can't fix it if I don't know what I've done!"

Ron muttered something under his breath, his wand still pointed at Hermione. She gasped out. The pain was unbearable. It wasn't Crucio, she knew what that felt like, it was something else. It felt like all of her muscles were contracting, contracting and not releasing. Ron looked at her, no longer crying.

"It should have been you."

"I don't understand," she cried out, "What do you mean!"

"It should have been you that died. In the war, Harry wasn't supposed to die. My best friend wasn't supposed to leave me. It should have been me and him, always, together. This wasn't how things were meant to be. You should have died Hermione, you, not Harry."

The curse was growing stronger. The pain was so bad; she wanted nothing more than to pass out.

"Stop Ron!" she screamed. "Please stop. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Harry died, and I'm sad, just like you are. I know it should have been me. I would do anything to switch places with Harry. But I can't. And it's not my fault he died. Please, you have to understand. Let me go!"

"No."

Her body was slowly and painfully crushing itself. She felt the life draining out of her, and she knew Ron had every intention of killing her. Her consciousness faded, and she slipped into oblivion. She never woke up, but she didn't need to. She now knew why Ron hurt her, why he enjoyed hurting her. He hated her for living. For living when Harry had died. And Hermione honestly couldn't blame him.

A/n: I'm not entirely sure I liked how this turned out. I know for a fact this wasn't how I was planning it. But, what ever. Tell me what you think, I'd love to hear it.