CHAPTER 1- FIVE YEARS

NO COPYRIGHT INTENDED, HARRY POTTER RIGHTS ARE J.K ROWLING'S AND WARNER BROS. ENTERTAINMENT.

THIS FANFICTION IS ABOUT HARRY RESCUING AN ABUSED HERMIONE FROM RON, AND TRYING TO HEAL HER PHYSICALLY AND MENTALLY

WARNING: THIS FANFICTION COVERS DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ABUSE AND SUICIDE. THIS MAY TRIGGER SOME READERS. IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS, PLEASE AVOID READING.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:

WELL, HERE I AM, BACK AS PROMISED! TO ALL WHO READ MY PREVIOUS FANFICTION 'REFLECTION', A HEARTY THANK YOU! IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT, THEN PLEASE DO! IT WOULD BE COOL TO HAVE IT PUT ONTO A COMMUNITY… NOT THAT I'M SUGGESTING ANYTHING!

ANYWAY, WELCOME TO 'ONE LAST VICTORY'. IT'S DARK, IT'S DIM, AND IT'S PROBABLY THE MOST INTENSE RON/WEASLEY-BASHING FIC ON THIS SITE (I DID CHECK). SO IF THAT'S NOT YOUR THING, HERE'S THE HEADS UP!

WITHOUT FURTHER ADO, LET'S JUST JUMP RIGHT IN!

Hermione let out another small yelp as Ron's fist crashed into her cheek for the fourth time in a row. She let out another small yelp when he next hit her, then again, and again.

Five years. Five long, horrible and painful years she'd been with Ron. Five since the end of the war, three since they'd been married and the two just gone by was as long as this had been going on for.

Everyday for two years, she'd been beaten. That included her birthday, Christmas, Easter, Valentines Day, and the other 361 days of the year as well.

It wasn't just two years of constant beatings though. It had been two years since she left the house. Two years since she'd seen any of her friends. Two years since she'd had a decent meal.

And two years since she'd seen Harry.

It's probably best to explain how this all started.

So, after the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione decided to become official, alongside Harry and Ginny. Despite all they had lost due to Voldemort and the war, it was a happy time. Both couples believed that this would be them forever and always.

Turns out forever has an expiry date.

With Hermione and Ron, the problems were clear almost from the off. Ron was childish, and she had a tendency to take arguments to the extreme. Even Mrs Weasley suggested that they may not be compatible, and the feelings were based purely on an unresolved childhood crush. Ron was furious at this statement, and wrote his mother off completely, and the rest of his family. That was four years ago. Hermione also rejected the statement, but it seemed to stick with her, niggling in the back of her mind. However, she loved him, and decided to stick with it.

As it happens, Hermione Granger can be wrong.

Harry and Ginny called it quits soon after. They just weren't meant to be. Unlike Ron, Ginny was rather gracious about the situation, and they still met up for lunch every now and then. She found someone else, and moved on. Harry did not.

It wasn't that he couldn't handle the breakup, because he could. It was mutual. The truth was, he was haunted. Haunted by the war. Haunted by Fred, Remus, Tonks, Sirius, and everyone else who died. He couldn't move on, his guilt getting the better of him.

He went into seclusion, and nobody heard from him very often. Until one day, where he went missing altogether. That was three and a half years ago.

Around the same time, Ron popped the question to Hermione. He seemed less than impressed with her response however, when she told him: "I need to think about it."

Ron believed that he was irresistible. And for Hermione to be getting cold feet at this stage angered him. He even felt like he was scrapping the barrel slightly, and that he could do better than Hermione. He never voiced this until later, of course. Hermione's reasoning for getting cold feet was clear – she missed Harry. Not the shell he'd become after the war, but the Harry she knew from Hogwarts. The fun-loving, mischievous and brave boy she… she…

She fell in love with.

It didn't occur to her at the time, but that was of course the reason.

She tried to contact Harry for advice on marrying Ron, but she couldn't reach him. Ron told her to stop looking, and if Harry hated the world enough to run away then that was up to him. He frequently let her know that Harry must hate her and him, and probably always has. He even went so far as to say that he was the only one who would be willing to marry her, and that she'd be lonely if she said no. In hindsight, she wished she had. But love was blinding, and she agreed to marry him.

She didn't entirely buy what he said about Harry, however.

Out of the two of them, she knew Harry better.

Behind Ron's back, she carried on the search. Two months of frantic searching later, and she found him. In a remarkable stroke of luck, just as she was checking out Grimmauld Place, she found him walking down the street, with two plastic bags of shopping in his hands. Without even announcing her presence, she tackled him into a hug, crying and scolding him simultaneously.

He invited her in. He had missed her, but only her. He hadn't really missed anyone else. Since the war, Harry was unable to find work. After the Ministry was reformed, the Auror Department had rejected him under the grounds that he caused the war to begin. As time pressed on, instead of being heralded as a hero, Harry Potter was blamed for the suffering caused under Voldemort. Nowhere in the wizarding world would take him. On top of that, the Ministry seized his vaults at Gringotts to pay for the damages caused during the war, leaving him only the money in his pocket. Having no record of education, Harry could not find a job in the muggle world either.

Harry Potter, the bravest wizard of all time, conqueror of the Dark Lord, was living on state benefits in the only thing he was allowed to keep – 12 Grimmauld Place.

Harry had told no one this, not even Hermione.

She wept as he explained it to her, and that he was too ashamed to fight back, because he had begun to believe that the Ministry was right about him. He should've acted sooner, and the war would never have started.

Hermione didn't allow this. She decided she would come back three days a week to check on Harry, and spend time with him, so he wasn't completely alone. He needed a friend, and she was more than happy to oblige.

When she returned home that evening and gave Ron the good news, he couldn't have been more disinterested. She thought he would be happy his best friend was safe, and that she was going to care for him while he was going through these dark times. But he didn't care. Actually, when she mentioned spending more time with him, his eyes lit up with rage, and he told her that he didn't want her to, threatening her with ending it if she did.

She was torn. She loved Ron (or so she thought), and wanted to marry him. But Harry was broken, and needed her help. Her mind brought her back to that night in the tent when Ron left.

"You choose him."

The words echoed in her head. She obviously wanted them both, and for everyone to be happy, and get along. But it didn't work like that. In retrospect, she should've ended it then. Harry was her best friend, and needed help. If Ron was too arrogant to see that, then perhaps he wasn't worth it.

But she told him she wouldn't.

She hung her head. It was horrible. Harry would be all alone, believing that she had given him false hope. What if he killed himself?

She was drawn from these thoughts when Ron told her he had good news of his own.

He showed her some paperwork which had arrived by owl a few hours before. It was a P45, or, in other terms, a notice of dismissal from a job.

It was addressed to Hermione.

When she pressed him for information, he told her that because they were getting married, she didn't need to work, and that she would be needed around the house, cooking, cleaning and looking after their kids. Work would only get in the way.

Hermione nearly hit the roof. She was furious.

She was a strong-minded, independent woman, who had career ambitions and things she wanted to see done. Ron had done this behind her back, and quite happily stated he got her sacked from her job.

She exploded with rage, and a very unpleasant argument erupted between the two of them. Hermione argued her rights as a human being, while Ron babbled on about the ideal role of a woman. She was mortified – was she really going to marry a sexist man?

She was prepared to leave. She was about to throw her engagement ring off her finger and call it quits. But he stopped her. Physically.

He threw her against the wall, threatening to kill her if she didn't comply. As she tried to draw her wand, he grabbed it from her hand, snapping it in two.

She was now defenceless.

She begged for Ron to stop as he hit her constantly, as he degraded her using some truly horrific terms that should never leave someone's lips.

"We're getting bloody married Hermione." Ron spoke sinisterly, as his beating stopped, and Hermione dropped to the ground, quivering. "And you are going to like it. And if I ever hear you tell anyone about this…" he paused, moving in closer to her face. "There are worse things than death. Just remember that." He stood up, grabbing her by the arm, throwing her into a spare room and magically locked the door and the window.

Ron let her out three days later, and gave her a similar warning to the one she received three nights prior. She obeyed.

It should've occurred to her then what was happening. She had just consented to becoming a slave in her own home, the property of her fiancé, who was now in control of her. She should've run, but she didn't.

Why didn't she? Because she loved him too much to see the monster he was becoming.

However, when she could leave the house, she went to check on Harry. She would spend hours there, making sure he was okay, even giving him money when he needed it. It was of course Ron's money, as her income had been terminated. She knew what would happen if he found out she was doing this for Harry, but he was worth it.

Hermione had begun to feel very scared, and very lonely.

Ron was at work most of the time, which just left her in an empty house, with no magic to assist in the chores he told her to do. She wasn't a big fan of TV, and she had read all the books she had half a dozen times now.

But she at least had the wedding to look forward to.

Or so she thought.

The day was a disaster. None of the Weasleys were invited, and Ron refused to make Harry his best man, claiming that he would 'enjoy the glory' too much. She thought he was being ridiculous, as Harry was modest and kind. It would've lifted him out of this hole of depression he'd sunk into by allowing him to have some responsibility. But she knew better than to voice her opinion at that stage, it would only cause problems.

In hindsight, she should've realised she had lost her sense of identity, as Ron began to slowly take control of her. By then, if she piped up, it meant pain.

The service itself was okay, if a little barren in terms of numbers. Hermione had not been able to find her parents in Australia, not that Ron allowed her to, and no one from the Weasley family was invited either.

It was the reception which went belly up.

Ron and Hermione ate their meal, which was of course picked by Ron, as was the venue, honeymoon and dress. But she loved him, so she let him have it.

How wrong she was.

The reception was initially going fine, until the one person Hermione begged for Ron to invite showed up.

Harry Potter stood in the entranceway, holding a present in his hand. He was sporting a loose-fitting button shirt and black jacket, with matching black trousers and shoes. He looked a little dishevelled, and had some hefty black bags under his eyes, indicating a lack of sleep. But he was smiling at his two best friends.

Underneath that smile, however, there was more. Harry was genuinely pleased to see that they were married, and they could live a happy life together. But he was also envious. Harry, over all the years, had grown to feel affectionate for Hermione. And after all her help in the war, and his recent mental and financial issues, he realised he had a need for her. He wanted her to be with him more than just a couple of days a week.

But he had to let it go. Hermione was happy with Ron, he was sure of it.

Hermione sat, admiring the boy in the doorway. The gave him a satisfied smile, a blush of genuine joy flushed across her face. That was, however, before her instincts kicked in.

Ron had not wanted Harry at the wedding. In fact, Ron would've been quite satisfied to never see Harry again. She looked over at her now husband, who was seething through gritted teeth at the messy young wizard, who's expression now also changed from one of happiness to fear.

Taking step forward, trying to rebuild some of his shattered confidence, Harry was greeted by Ron, who, in a blink-and-you'd-miss-it moment, had jumped over the table and run at lightning speed towards Harry.

"What the BLOODY HELL are you doing here?" Ron bellowed, causing Harry to cower in fear slightly. "This is MY wedding!"

"I… I just came to give y-you and Hermione this…" Harry nervously stuttered, as he extended the gift towards Ron's hand.

"Are we some sort of charity?" Ron tossed the present across the room. "We don't need you. We don't like you. Go off and cry about everyone you've lost while the rest of us move on."

Hermione had to make a stand. Harry had been generous enough to buy a present even when he didn't have much money, and didn't deserve to be treated with such disrespect from his best friend.

"Ron! How could you do that? He was- "

"SHUT IT, BITCH!" Ron screamed, his face now purple. The atmosphere was so tense, everyone except Harry, Hermione and Ron had fled the room. "You want to stick up for him, do you?" Ron continued in a menacing tone, walking maliciously towards Hermione, causing her to shrink into her seat slightly. "Well, you're mine now, and there's nothing he can do. Don't you dare talk up to me again, do you hear?"

Ron wanted to continue, but was met with a nasty left hook from Harry, who had followed Ron up to where Hermione was sitting.

"Hermione, what's going on?" Harry asked, worry present in his tone.

Before she could answer, Harry was tripped by Ron, and a fight broke out between the former best friends. Hermione saw Harry's nose break under Ron's fist, and start gushing blood. Harry, who previously would've been stronger than Ron, was now significantly weaker, due to malnourishment and lack of sleep. Ron was living like a king, on Hermione's back.

Hermione made a desperate attempt to pull Ron off of Harry, but Ron responded by smacking her across the face so hard that her ears began to ring furiously, and her vision blurred.

"Don't you EVER touch me like that again, you hear?" Ron shouted at the dazed Hermione, grabbing her by the arm. "And you don't ever talk to him again, I'll do a lot worse than smack you. Understood, bitch?"

Hermione, petrified with fear, wandless and overpowered, could do nothing but nod her head.

"We're going." And with that, he dragged her out of the reception, as she gave Harry one last look. Harry was deeply disturbed by what he'd just seen. Ron, a wife beater? Surely not.

When they arrived home, Ron dragged Hermione into their bedroom, and beat her senseless for what felt like hours. Words such as 'bitch', 'worthless', 'mudblood' and 'whore' were all used constantly. Hermione started off screaming, but was then regressed to pained sobs.

This had to be the worst day of her life.

Ron, after he was tired out from beating his newlywed wife, handcuffed her to the bed, magically sealed the room, gave her six bottles of water and a packet of biscuits, and went on their honeymoon.

Alone.

Hermione stayed handcuffed to the bed, with no means of escape, with only a biscuits and water to keep her alive, for two and a half weeks.

That was three years ago.

Things continued to deteriorate. While she was still allowed out, Ron would still beat her senseless at least twice a week. She continued to aid Harry, who was grateful for her kindness.

But something plagued his mind. He had seen Ron attack and intimidate Hermione, and wanted to know if anything else was going on. He had suspicions, as Hermione had started wearing makeup. While that may not sound drastic on paper, she rarely ever wore makeup, and she had begun to wear it in such vast quantities that he believed she was trying to cover something up. Another issue was she never brought her wand with her, claiming week after week she left it at her house. It seemed unlikely she would forget her wand once, let alone weeks and weeks in a row. The last thing, and the giveaway point, was her eyes. He loved them. They were always full of sparkle, like big, brown saucers which had just been polished. But not anymore. They were surrounded by monumental black bags, and were often bloodshot. This, to him, communicated something was happening she wasn't telling him about. However much he tried to probe, she always brushed him off or changed the subject.

She couldn't tell him. Ron would come for blood. She had, of course, realised what she had gotten herself into. But it was now too late to back out. She was too afraid to run. She was terrified of telling Harry or notifying the police. She thought she loved Ron, but she now realised that she didn't. She didn't hate him either, though. She feared him. She was terrified of what he would do to her next, what he would do to make her suffer. His mind was sick, twisted and violent, and he had forced her to do some abhorrent things. She was under the illusion that if she came clean, then things would get worse.

Again, hindsight is 20/20, and she wished she told someone.

Harry kept trying and trying to ask her about what was going on, but she always dismissed his concerns. She was able to keep it up for almost an entire year, before she finally cracked.

"Hermione, please, you know you can tell me anything!" Harry pleaded, just hoping he was overthinking the situation. "If there's something going on, I promise I can help, you just need to tell me!"

Hermione was ready to put her defences up again, and tell Harry that nothing was wrong, but she appreciated his concern, and would of course come to him should anything happen. But, for the first time, she found herself incapable. She looked into his eyes, which, she decided, were like galaxies swirling around. They were so beautiful, enticing and piecing, and could display almost any emotion. While they were versatile in emotion, there was always a sad undertone to them, which, if you looked closely enough, made Harry appear older and wiser than his looks gave him credit for. They were wet, as if stocked full of unshed tears.

Hermione couldn't keep it up. Once she had looked him dead in the eye she broke down. She couldn't seem to regain her composure through the frantic sobs, as Harry struggled to keep her under control.

She was ready to spill it all, tell Harry everything, and beg for his help. It seemed so degrading, but he was so willing to help.

So why did she leave?

Every day for the following two years she kicked herself for not telling him. Then this would all be over… and she might even be happy by now.

She told Harry she had to leave, and despite him chasing after her, she ran out of 12 Grimmauld Place, Harry in hot pursuit.

She apparated back to her house, still in floods of tears.

Unexpectedly, pair of hands grabbed her, throwing her to the floor.

"You think I let you sneak off without me putting a tracking charm on you did you?" Ron said, almost nonchalantly, but with a sinister smile. "Oh, also another charm, which lets me eavesdrop in on your conversations." He kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to curl up and roll over in pain. "HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HIM!" Another kick. "AFTER EVERYTHING!" Another kick. "YOU DISOBEYED ME!" A punch this time. "YOU'LL BEG FOR MY FORGIVNESS NOW!" Another punch.

Hermione was screaming, regretting every decision she'd made in the prior three years.

"Admit it, you love him more than me, don't you?"

Hermione shook her head desperately, only to receive another kick to the stomach.

"TELL THE TRUTH!"

Hermione paused, shooting a look back at the man she was supposed to love and cherish in marriage. He stood over, his eyes ablaze with rage. She couldn't lie anymore. She'd known it for a very, very long time. Hesitantly, she nodded.

"You nasty, deprave whore." Ron spat at her, as if he were speaking to a dog.

Hermione trembled, and tried to resist Ron as he dragged her up the stairs, threw her into the spare room, handcuffed her to the bed, and beat her all through the night, even when she faded from consciousness.

She was awoken the next morning by Ron, who told her maliciously that he had to take extra precautions to stop her from leaving, so had placed wards around the house. Now, nobody, including Harry could remember where it was, and wouldn't recognise it upon seeing it. No one could apparate into the house, or out of it. She could leave the room once a day when Ron was home to go to the toilet, but she would be handcuffed to the bed for the rest of the day.

Hermione was now, without question, a prisoner in her own home.

She heard Harry calling out her name sometimes, but, naturally, he couldn't find the house, which was silenced, so even if she screamed it would do nothing.

And that was how things had stayed, for two years.

As Ron's fist crashed down for the fifth time, she let out another yelp. She had come up with a plan. An escape plan of sorts. But not an escape plan from the room or the house. It was an escape from life. She was going to taunt him, try and rile him up to the point of maximum rage, make him so angry that he beat her harder and harder.

Until she was dead.

She didn't want to live anymore. If help wasn't coming, then she would rather die than endure this anymore.

Ron stood up, ending his brief encounter with his favourite punching bag. Hermione looked dreadful. Her eyes were both blackened and bloodshot, her nose was covered in dried blood, her hair was sticking out in all directions, her skin was yellow and sickly, she was bone skinny and she was fairly confident her left arm was broken.

She set her plan into action, just praying this would be her last day alive.

"Ron, I need the toilet." She said, timidly, trying to act as normally as possible.

"Fine, make it quick." Ron uncuffed her, and followed her into the nearest bathroom. When they were both inside, she lunged for him, causing his head to smack into the wall behind him. After being dazed for a brief moment, he turned to look her dead in the eye.

Without saying a word, he attacked her. Not just beat, attacked her. He was so furious, he grabbed a wicker chair which sat in the corner of the bathroom and hit her multiple times with it, before he grabbed the shower head, and with one fatal whack landing on Hermione's head, she fell to the ground, unconscious.

In his anger, Ron stormed out of the bathroom, grabbed his keys and left the house for work.

However, he neglected certain aspects. He didn't handcuff Hermione to anything. He didn't lock the door on his way out. And, most importantly, he didn't check if Hermione was still breathing.

Which she was.

TO BE CONTINUED

WELL, THIS IS CERTAINLY DIFFERENT TO MY USUAL FANFICTIONS. THEY'RE USUALLY QUITE LIGHT AND FLUFFY. THIS CHAPTER IS THE MOST EXPLICIT WITH THE VIOLENCE AND LANGUAGE USED, AND IT WILL TUNE DOWN AS WE MOVE AHEAD. WHILE THIS IS THE MOST BRUTAL CHAPTER, DON'T EXPECT IT TO GET ALL SUNSHINE AND RAINBOWS – THIS IS A DARK STORY. STILL, I HOPE YOU'VE ENJOYED IT SO FAR, AND KEEP READING! PLEASE FOLLOW THIS STORY SO YOU KNOW WHEN I POST!

PLEASE DON'T BE SHY, LEAVE A REVIEW! IT REALLY HELPS ME OUT AS A WRITER!

NEXT CHAPTER COMING SOON!