Summary: Hermione, mum to Rose, 18 months, and partner to Ron, who works with George, feels so out of touch with the world, with her friends and with her family. She seeks more than this life she has found herself stuck in, almost like groundhog day. She is highly controlled and manipulated by Ron, who dictates just about everything in their lives. When the opportunity to return to the job she loved, she is thrilled. As her life moves in a new direction, so does a part of her heart. Despite all of his many failings, she still loves Ron, but finds herself falling madly for someone else. She finds herself in some difficult times and hits rock bottom before picking herself back up and tripping again and again. Just when she decides she's had enough trials and tribulations, she grows her wings and finds what it is shes ACTUALLY been searching for this whole time.

March 2005

Hermione Granger looked out the kitchen window of the small 3-bedroom home she lived in. Her cup was warm in her hands, something she craved at this time of the morning.

A small child with red curly hair clung to her leg, but she couldn't hear what she was saying; her mind was occupied with other things.

If she thought her life would have turned out this way, she was sorely mistaken. War heroin, brightest witch of her age, youngest person to have risen through the ranks of the ministry of magic and become leader of her department.

That was all gone now. She became a mother at the age of 23 and left work on the advice of her Healer. Her body, it seemed, had experienced so much trauma throughout the war years that the toll of a pregnancy, even though it was 4 years later, was almost too much on her body.

A high-pitched squeal pulled her from her thoughts.

"Rose, my oh my" she said in the sing song voice she had developed in the past year and a half. She reached down and collected the 18-month-old in her arms, setting her on her hip. Young Rose reached for her mother's cup, something she had become accustomed to in their mornings.

"Some?" she asked.

"Say please, my darling" Hermione said to her.

"Puh… Leees" she said, batting her translucent eye lashes at her mother.

Hermione grinned at this and handed the remains of her morning cup of tea to her daughter, setting her down at the nearby highchair while she set about making her oats.

Their days always melted into one. She'd wake up after Ron had gone to work at Weasleys Wizards Wheezes and spend the day playing with Rose and tending to the house and garden. Rose always napped between 12:30 and 2:30 so that was when Hermione had some time to just sit quietly and reflect on her life.

Its not that she hated her life. She loved her daughter and had fallen into an easy life with Ron. She often felt though, that there was something missing. Having felt like, at one point, she had been someone important, someone that others looked up to and counted on, now she felt completely the opposite. Sure, her daughter counted on her, as any child counts on their mother, but apart from that, she relied on Ron for income, for adult conversation and for physical intimacy. The intimacy, however, she could take or leave.

Her mind drifted back to their first time, which consisted of a few minutes of awkward fumbling in the darkness of Ron's attic bedroom before Ron grunted in pleasure and rolled off her. Their trysts had not changed much since then. Always the same. She'd get into bed at night after tucking Rose in for the second time and Ron would roll over to her, his arousal obvious as he tugged at her pyjama bottoms and ground his waiting erection against her. She would roll over, tugging her pants off her feet, allow him to climb on top of her before he would enter her roughly, thrust a few times and spill himself into her with a groan of pleasure - from him, never from her. Pleasure was something that she only heard about. She figured she was one of the 10 to 15 per cent of women who just can not be brought to climax. This was all she knew, and she never questioned it. She had nothing to compare their sex life to and no idea that it could or should be another way.

The rare occasions that Ginny attempted to discuss her sex life with Harry with her, she shut it down. Harry was like a brother to her and Ginny a sister. She couldn't bear to discuss their sex life with them.

That was the extent of her friendship circle. Sure, she had acquaintances, she had work colleagues and people who were in touch every so often from Hogwarts and the DA, but if she sat, spoon feeding Rose her oats and thought about her friends, Harry and Ginny were the extent of it and her sex life was not something she ever discussed with anybody.

Hermione sat at the table eating toast, as Rose played with some blocks on the floor. She spun the silver ring on her finger, absent mindedly as she bit off a piece of her toast and chewed it, while day dreaming about nothing and about everything.

She often wondered what her life would look like now if she hadn't been with Ron. If she had not gotten back with him after their short break up in Australia; If she hadn't taken the ring he offered her along with a promise that one day they could marry and he'd give her the life she always dreamt of; If she hadn't fallen pregnant by accident and if she hadn't had to leave the job she loved.

The reality of it was after some initial hesitation, Hermione accepted Ron's proposal and his endless promises of travel and adventure, without the burden of war. There were other forces driving her agreeance to Ron's proposal, however. Hermione never thought herself as someone who was appealing to the opposite sex. Apart from Viktor, no man had shown any interest in her at all. Ron was comfortable. He was easy and reliable. He loved her in his own way, and she loved him back, as much as she thought she could love anyone. Their life was predictable and for someone who had experienced the things she had, she needed predictable. She needed reliable and she needed to trust that things would be easy.

The day flew by in a haze of the usual games, puzzles, adventures in the garden and Rose's eventual nap at 12:30. Hermione used the time to continue with her memoirs, something she had been pushed into by Harry after the war. It had taken her months to put something on paper, but once she started, she knew that it was something she had to finish. Now, 5 years later, she had written most of the bulk of the book and was in the editing stage. It was difficult with an 18-month-old child, to get anything done that required concentration, however, she found that if she utilised her magic more for household chores, she could perhaps be done in the next few weeks.

As the clothes hung themselves on the line and the dishes in the sink were scrubbed by an enchanted brush, she sat down at the desk in the spare room and started where she left off. It was hard reading over the details of the war, but she hoped that some day, people may know how hard it was for them, surviving those months, camping in the snow and making food from dirt and mushrooms. People know Hermione Granger as part of the golden trio, as they called them, but no one, apart from the three of them, and for a time, not even Ron, knew the difficulties they faced. How hungry they were, how desperate they were for contact from the outside world. Hermione was desperate to show that in her memoirs and as she edited her spelling and grammar, she became proud of what she had almost finished with her words.

Before she knew it, she was pulled away by the babbling of Rose from her cot in her bedroom. She knew better than to enter her room straight away, so after she neatened her piles of parchment and locked them away, she made her way down the hall to the kitchen where she heated up a cup of milk for her little love.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and she prepared dinner, waiting for Ron to return home from the shop. At 5:30, the sound of the floo scared Rose, who screamed and ran, as much as toddlers can run, to her mother for safety. No matter how often it happened, she was always scared of the sound that came from the floo.

Ron stepped into the living room and took his shoes off beside the mantle, brushing the soot and dust off his robes and onto the perfectly vacuumed carpet.

"Ron, please, you know how much the floo scares her, can you just apparate to the yard?" Hermione said as she comforted their daughter and glared at the mess on the floor.

"Please, Hermione, I've been at work all day. Just put her in her room when its time for me to come home" he said.

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and turned to head back to the kitchen. Rose was getting her breath back and small sobs could be heard coming from her as Hermione juggled a pot of vegetables and a crying toddler.

"Here, take her, will you?" she asked, as the pot begun to boil over.

"Just set her down" he said, taking a bottle of butterbeer from the fridge and topping it up with a shot of firewhisky. That was Ron's favourite 'home from work' activity. No matter what, he'd make his way directly to the fridge when he arrived home to quench his thirst, bypassing Hermione and Rose in the process. It used to upset her, she felt neglected and unimportant, however, now that it had become part of their routine, it was nothing new to her.

Hermione set Rose down, who burst into a new round of tears. Ron stood in the middle of the loungeroom observing the commotion with one hand on his drink and one on his hip.

"Why's she crying for?" he asked as he sipped from the bottle.

"Because, the floo scares her" Hermione sighed, as if Ron would know this by now.

"Didn't you comfort her?" he asked.

"Well I did, but I can't stop stirring the dinner or it will burn and I don't want Rose to get burnt by the stove" she said. Besides, I asked you to take her, you know, comfort her. You're her dad, just pick her up and give her a cuddle" Hermione said, clearly exasperated by his attitude.

"Come on Rose, lets go put on some music" Ron said, patting his leg in a way that one would call a dog to their side.

Rose simply looked at her dad and back at her mother before fresh cries rang from her mouth.

Hermione, knowing that this was the norm, picked up their daughter, placed her on her hip and continued with cooking, trying her hardest to keep her daughter's chubby legs away from the spitting oil.

"See, you can do both" Ron said, turning away from her and disappearing into the spare room.

Hermione sang softly to Rose as she tended to the vegetables and spoke to her as though she were teaching her how to prepare the meal. She herself had taken years to perfect even the simplest of meals, with thanks to Molly, however, she would not tolerate her child growing up depending on others to feed her. Her daughter would be a food whiz if she had anything to do with it, and Merlin forbid if she ever became stranded in the forest, she would know how to create a hearty meal out of things she could forage for.

Once Rose had calmed down, Hermione placed her in her highchair and sat her close enough so she could see the goings on in the kitchen, but far enough away so she wasn't in the way.

At the sound of the floo activating once again, Rose's calm manner, turned to utter fear and the toddler was in tears once more.

"Bloody hell" Hermione muttered under her breath, collecting Rose from her highchair to soothe the child, who was not almost at hyperventilating point.

"Hey? Hello? Anyone?" came the voice of George, instantly setting her on edge.

"In here" Hermione called back when Ron didn't answer.

"Seriously, I don't know how you live like this. Muggle fridge, muggle stove, muggle tv. It's like you don't even want to be a witch" George said, placing a kiss on the top of Rose's head and not quite looking Hermione in the eye.

Hermione just glared at George, blowing loose hair away from her face.

"Where's my brother?" George asked.

"Try the spare room. He was going to go and play some music" Hermione said as she soothed Rose and turned the pork chops over.

"Here, let me take the little one" he said, taking Rose from her and entertaining her with tiny sparks from his wand as he whisked her away from the kitchen. Hermione was grateful for that moment as the entire meal she was cooking seemed to be falling apart. She knew she couldn't count on Ron to help as that wasn't something he was interested in doing. In the past, when Rose wouldn't go to him at his insistence, he had retreated from her, causing a domino effect and putting up a huge wall in the father daughter relationship. Now, the only person who Rose trusted, was Hermione and sometimes some of the Weasleys, although, Uncle George was her favourite.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander back to the time after the war when George was still wallowing in his grief at losing his twin and Hermione and Ron had called it quits. She remembered spending time with him at a ministry function, a memorial, they called it. It was supposed to honour the fallen and praise the heroes, however, the only thing Hermione felt, was absolute guilt at having survived when so many didn't. It was the first time she had ever gotten really drunk and the first time she had almost made a complete fool of herself. When suitably drunk, she bonded with George over their mutual disgust at the whole event and later, found herself enthralled in a passionate embrace with the older Weasley.

It was something they vowed never to speak of, and they hadn't. She didn't tell Ron, or Ginny or even Harry. But every so often, when George would do something nice for her, just something simple, like help with Rose, she thought back to that night and wondered if they had made something from that kiss, if they had allowed themselves to be carried away, would things have been different for her? Would she be with a man who treated her like his queen. She shook the thought away. George's interest was purely platonic. He insisted as much when they spoke about it awkwardly in the days that followed.

Hermione finished cooking the meal quickly, now that her hands were free and plated it up, setting the table and adding a place for George. He would often come over after work to discuss a new item or talk about things that had happened in the shop.

The night flew by with George retelling a story from their day, discussing how Ron had taken his lunch break in the back room and fallen asleep for 2 hours. Hermione scowled internally at this, having been so busy all day she had forgotten to eat lunch. That's how it was though. Ron went to work but no matter how hard he worked, what Hermione did would never live up. She would never mention anything though, because Ron's temper was not something to be messed with, especially him being 3 butterbeers and 3 shots of firewhisky deep into his usual night time routine.

The night was uneventful. After dinner, Hermione bathed Rose and read her a story before tucking her into bed. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that, apart from waking once, an hour after going to bed each night, she slept through the night. George left once Ron was suitably drunk, and Hermione retreated to the bathroom to shower and get ready for bed after Rose woke for reassurance.

When she was just about done, Ron hopped in and without warning, urinated on the floor at their feet.

"RON!" she screeched. It wasn't the first time and she knew it wouldn't be the last. She had asked him not to before, but he insisted, as he did this night that it couldn't be helped.

"What? I can't help it. When the water hits me, it just happens" he said.

"So, go to the bloody loo before you get in" She snapped, taking the soap to her feet.

"Bloody hell Hermione, you're so uptight" he muttered as she got out and wrapped a towel around herself.

"And you're a pig" she muttered back, almost slamming the bathroom door behind herself.

She dressed quickly and got into bed, pulling the covers up around herself before trying desperately to fall asleep before he came into the room. She was in no mood to argue with him about this, or about anything, but she could sense it coming. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing as she heard the shower turn off. She pretended to be asleep as he turned their bedroom light on and entered the walk-in wardrobe, throwing things around looking for some boxers.

"Stupid bloody place, can't even find what I'm looking for. Bloody woman doesn't even know how to put things away properly. Wonder what she does all day. Probably sits around doing nothing" he muttered to himself.

Hermione listened as he raved on in a drunken slur, searching for what she knew was in the drawer where it was supposed to be. She heard the drawer slide open and him "hmmph" when he found what he was looking for and she smiled inwardly at herself, knowing he'd never apologise for being an ass, but also knowing that she was right and he was wrong.

She felt the mattress move as he climbed in beside her and within moments, she felt his thick hands roaming up the leg of her pyjama shorts.

She held her breath, hoping he'd stop. If she didn't turn around, if she pretended to be asleep, he may get the hint, but he persisted, tugging at her pants.

"Not tonight" she murmured, shaking him off.

He persisted, however. She knew he would. He always did.

"Come on 'Mione, don't be a bitch" he said, as he tugged her pants completely down, revealing her backside. Before she had a chance to respond, he had positioned himself at her entrance from behind and was trying to enter her. She knew that if she didn't relent, he'd make a big deal out of it, so she rolled over and played the game she always played.

He climbed on top of her and prodded around till he found her entrance and forced himself into her. She winced at the dry friction, but she knew he wouldn't care if she asked him to wait for her to adjust. He began his jack-hammering type motion, pounding away at her as though she were a piece of meat. She stared up at the ceiling as she allowed the man who was supposed to love her, use her for sex. A part of her knew this was wrong. This isn't how it should be. Part of her hoped that sex could be more than this, it could be enjoyable. But nothing about this was enjoyable for Hermione. Nevertheless, avoiding the argument was worth it.

She remembered what happened the last time she tried to refuse. Ron was drunk, as per usual, and when he tugged at her pants, she said no. She had had an aching back all night from working in the garden and had taken a pain potion that rendered her body essentially limp in order for her to sleep. On this occasion, she was adamantly saying no. This had made Ron furious. He insulted her, accused her of having sex with someone else and eventually threatened to go the neighbours house and have him come and have sex with her if she didn't acquiesce to his demand. That night, she relented, and Ron had sex with her limp body while tears fell from her face in the dark of their room.

From that point on, she rarely said no.

To an outsider, Hermione and Ron were the perfect couple. They owned their home, had a beautiful and intelligent daughter who was well behaved, had no need to have a double income and were having sex at least 5 nights a week.

Hermione shuddered at the thought of this as Ron grabbed a fistful of her hair and grunted, spilling himself into her. Yes, her life was perfect on the outside, but inside her mind, she was trapped in it. In a relationship that she couldn't stand with a man who hated her. A bored housewife who would rather spend her time with her 18-month-old daughter than the man who was supposed to love her unconditionally.

AN - Welcome to the first chapter in my newest ff. This story is a little different, in that, most of it is based on real events, modified to fit this world. If you are triggered by emotional abuse, alcoholism, forced sex (aka, rape in a relationship, because, lets be honest, that's what it is), cheating, descriptive sex scenes, then this probably is not for you.

If you have any questions, I'll happily answer them. Just PM me or post a comment and i'll address it in the following chapter. If you read this and can relate to the things that are happening, PLEASE reach out. A lot of what happens is NOT ok. Hiding it doesn't make it go away, ignoring it wont make it go away. The only thing that makes it go away, is getting the F out if there. Sadly, it will be a while before our Hermione get to that point, just as women all over the world take an average of THREE attempts before they can finally leave.

I have every chapter mapped out and am on my way towards having a good portion of this completed. I think i will post shorter chapters, more frequently, as there will be some circumstances where a short chapter is necessary.

I appreciate reviews and am not going to hold the story to ransom for reviews, but i will say that reviews help me keep going when i hit a wall. Just a "keep it up" is enough to push me through the darker moments of how this is coming together. I will not run out of inspiration for this, as the story has already been told. I just need to get it out. I don't have a schedule for updates, so keep an eye out. I aim to have it finished and all posted within a few weeks.

As always, i don't like using a Beta, so grammatical errors and typos will occur. Just know that these are not intentional and i am trying my hardest to keep them to a minimum while getting the content out quick and doing this story, MY story, justice.

Also, please understand that this story is 13 years in my past. I am not using this as a platform to manage whatever I am going through. I am more ok than you know and will post an epilogue the end to highlight how much so.

If you've read this far, thank you. And stay posted.