The Love Lagoon: A Dramione Lovestory

Two

Hermione

"You...you're fucking my best
friend?!" Ron exploded over dinner. Dinner that I had lovingly prepared, even though I was tired from work. 

He smashed the dining room table in his rage, and grabbed me by the throat, throttling me. "How long?! How long has Harry Potter been sticking his cock into your filthy mudblood cunt?!!" 

I couldn't speak as he was strangling me. "Ev--ever since we--we were on the run hunting horcruxes. Albus Severus is my son, not Ginny's. Hers died from birth complications, but I had just given birth to my son, and I gave up my child for the sake of peace in their marriage."

Ron drew back in shocked. His blue eyes were wide with astonishment. "You...you filthy, disgusting WHORE!!!" Ron screamed.

We fought then, and at first, I was able to overpower him. But then Ron quickly gained the upper hand, and I blacked out. I came to as he was raping me anally. I no longer remembered where I was, nor how I ended up on the floor...

🌌----

Two Years Later...

I woke up with a start as I had a nightmare yet again of Ron beating me. Five years of his brutish fists, and his explosive rage attacks. I quickly found a penthouse in the more affluent part of London, and I lived there anonymously under the false name of Jane Vance. 

I felt safe there, but I honestly felt a bit guilty about never being able to interact with my son. Harry took care of Albus Severus well, but he tried like hell to stay away from me in any romantic capacity. Our resolve didn't last long, and before we knew it, we were finding more and more creative ways to see one another. 

The divorce had been a grueling ordeal, and I didn't get half of what I asked for in court. But after five years, I was finally free, and I was able to take my maiden name again. Ron was locked up in Azkaban for domestic violence, and I had a restraining order against him as well. 

I was working at my job in the Wand Permit department. Why the Ministry of Magic decided to adopt some of MACUSA's policies, I had no idea, but apparently, the Americans who had immigrated here after the fall of Voldemort, gained enough of a foothold here to require foreign visitors to Europe to fill out Wand Permits in order for them to use their wands legally. I personally thought it was a ridiculous policy, but since I became too outspoken with my S.P.E.W. policies, I was given the job of being the head of the Wand Permit office. Yay, for me.

I was finishing up a long shift when I decided to play with my smartphone for a bit. I noticed a random email pop up in my email. Normally, I would just hit that SPAM button, but it was a trip to the Caribbean. I could bring a plus one, but since I chose not to date after my marriage with Ron Weasley went down in flames, I was turned off by dating. 

Harry and I fell apart as well, and I was only able to see my son from afar as Aunt Hermione. I decided to separate myself from that situation, and just pour myself into work, and my studies in Transfiguration. I certainly had the credits to go into the training program, and the experience in the field from the war, but it was more out of a desire to leave my dead end job in the Ministry that I studied, not out of any intellectual greatness on my part. 

I clicked on the video attachment, and it showed picturesque island landscapes, with happy, tan couples having fun in the surf and perfect white beaches. My practical side didn't want to do it, but my Gryffindor side won out in the end, and I found the registration form. What the hell did I have to lose, really? A few hundred galleons? I didn't need to work after the war, the Ministry gave all of the heroes of the last wizarding war a giant golden parachute, but I worked to keep sane, honestly. I knew that retirement would not sit well with me, so I just decided to work in whatever capacity I could.

I signed the form, and emailed it back to the travel agency. I was not sure if I would even get the plane tickets, but it was worth a shot, in any case. I went home, and slept for twelve hours after my tired body hit the bed. When I woke up, I saw an email on my computer, and it sent me the details of my flight. I was to leave on Sunday, at 4:30 in the afternoon with six layovers along the way for the plane to refuel. I was going to be flying first class. The flight was Flight 790. Sunday was tomorrow, so I had only today to prepare. 

I jumped into action, and enchanted a carry on bag to carry whatever I needed, including survival things, because, you just never know. I packed some snacks, drinks, money, my technical comforts like my laptop computer, phone, MP3 player. With that done, I decided to call Harry and tell him the news. He was most encouraging, and basically told me to "Go for it."

I had an early dinner, and Netflixed and chilled until it was time for bed. I had no idea what to expect of the future, but it was sure to be interesting at any rate...