Forbidden

Forbidden

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its worlds.

A/N: WARNING this chapter contains violence in the form of abuse. If you don’t like it, then you don’t have to read this story. Thank you.

Another Quick Note: This story is also posted at fanfiction.net, on my other account, kiera-sama. just for those of you who may have read this already. :) ok now, enjoy.

Chapter One: St. Mungo’s, How May We Help You?

Hermione tapped her wand on the front door of her flat. “Alohomora” she muttered quietly. The softest of clicks could be heard through the wooden door. She slowly turned the handle so as not to make any noise. If he woke, she would be in for it. It was three o’clock in the morning, and she was just coming home. He hated it when she came home late. Hell, he hated her going out in the first place.

She slipped inside, and quickly but quietly shut and locked the door. Hermione made her way down the hall to the bathroom. She turned the shower on and climbed inside the tub. She leaned back and let the water flow down her hair and her back. After a few minutes she reached for her lufa and applied some of his favorite body wash. Lavender scented.

She softly scrubbed her body in the same placed He touched her. Tonight had been wonderful, and He had been so giving. Tonight had been about her alone; which was more than she ever got with her husband.

She recalled the way that her husband had been in the beginning. He had taken her on romantic dates, and brought her flowers. He had even shown up at her work a few times, to take her to lunch. She had loved him, and she thought he had loved her…

But that was all in the past now. He had become demanding, overpowering, and most of all, controlling. She had to tell him where she was going, when she was going, how long she was to be there and when she expected to be home. He wanted her to be there, either in the bedroom, where he was controlling and didn’t do anything for her pleasure.

Hermione could count on one hand, not including her thumb, how many times he had made her orgasm in their entire marriage. It was all about him. A quick poke and hump as it were. She rarely got any satisfaction from it at all.

If she wasn’t in the bedroom, Hermione was expected to be either cleaning, or in the kitchen. If the rooms weren’t up to his standards…well…let’s just say she made sure they were.

When she was done with her body, she stepped into the spray of water and let it rinse the soap off of her. She then shampooed and conditioned her hair with that same lavender scent, and turned off the water. Reaching around the curtain, she found a large white towel.

Quickly drying her hair, she then wrapped the towel around her body and stepped out of the shower. She summoned her pajamas and dressed quietly, not once making a single sound since she walked through the front door. Hermione put the towel inside of the hamper, at the bottom, knowing that if her husband saw the towel he would know that she had come in so late.

She slid out of the bathroom, and made her way up the stairs. She listened at the door, and when she didn’t hear anything, slowly pushed the bedroom door open. She slipped inside and as she was heading to the bed, a soft light flickered into existence.

“Where were you?”

Hermione spun on her heel to face her husband. "R-Ron…” she gasped. “You scared me…I…the date I had with Ginny ran a bit late…” she lied quickly. She had told him that she was going to see Ginny. And she had, for about fifteen minutes…

“It is three in the morning Hermione…what have I told you?” Ron Weasley stood and took a step toward her. “I want you home by seven…”

“Ron, we just got caught up talking and…” Hermione began weakly, taking a step backward.

“Talking, a load of good talking gets you, eh Hermione?” Ron said now walking towards her.

Hermione’s back hit the wall. There was no where else to go. She looked up into his angry eyes.

“Ron…Ron, please…” she whimpered, scared.

“No…” Ron raised his arm above his head. “Home…by…SEVEN!!”

Ron’s fists came raining down upon Hermione, who covered her face. He knocked her arm away from her head and punched her square in the jaw. Hermione’s face snapped to the side. Her legs gave out and she crumpled to the ground, where she curled into a ball. Ron kicked at her side, and Hermione could swear she heard a rib crack.

Ron turned to reach for something to hit her with. When he was a few steps away from her, Hermione lunged at the door, tripping over the lamp that had fallen over when she fell.

Ron heard the noise and ran at her. She scrambled through the door and tried to reach the stairs. Her legs were swept out from under her and she started to fall. Ron grabbed a hold of her arm and she heard as well as felt it break. He then grabbed her by her wet hair and jerked her face up to his.

“You are my wife. And as such I expect you do behave like a good little wife should, and obey me.”

Hermione’s tears poured down her face, her eyes pleading to her husband to stop. “Ron…” she whispered weakly. “I’m sorry…”

“NO SORRYS!!” He jerked his arm that was holding her up, and flung it over the stairs, letting go of her hair.

He watched as Hermione helplessly fell down the stairs, cuts and scrapes being added to the already forming bruises. As she lay in a crumpled heap at the foot of the staircase, Ron calmly walked down the stairs. He pinched a bit of floo powder between his fingers, and tossed it into the fire, threatening Hermione not to say anything.

A head popped into the flames. “St. Mungo’s, how may we be of service?”

Ron’s face was the height of concern, “Please, my there’s been an accident…”

A/n: please tell me how you like it.