Shattered

DarthMittens

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 06/08/2011
Last Updated: 06/08/2011
Status: completed

And he knew as she said "I do" to another man that he would never be able to put back together the broken pieces of his heart. Rated R for Language.

Chapters

1. Shattered

1. Shattered

A/N: Hey all, just a one-shot to keep my creative juices flowing as I take a short break from having to meet the expectations of having to update regularly! Look out for Hermione, I Miss You, the first chapter of which will be coming out next week!

Rated M purely for language. I don’t do smut, period.

Please don’t forget to review afterwards!

When you were here before
Couldn't look you in the eye
You're just like an angel
Your skin makes me cry
You float like a feather
In a beautiful world
I wish I was special
You're so fucking special

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here

I don't care if it hurts
I want to have control
I want a perfect body
I want a perfect soul
I want you to notice when I'm not around
You're so fucking special
I wish I was special

-Creep, Radiohead

Shattered

20-year-old Hermione Granger sighed as she stared at the wedding gown in her hands. Was this the right thing to do?

She wasn’t in love with him, that much she knew, but he seemed to be very in love with her and she didn’t have it in her to break up with him, especially now that they were engaged.

She wasn’t in love with her fiancé because she was in love with him, of course.

“Stupid bloody Harry Potter,” she said savagely as she fisted the dress in her hands before quickly relaxing to avoid wrinkling it. It should have been her best friend standing at the altar with her, or at least that was the way she had envisioned it since she had been 14 years old. And here she was getting married to another.

It was because after defeating Voldemort Harry had up and vanished. He had been alive during the celebration that night, so he hadn’t died in the fight, but the next morning his bed was empty but for a note reading, ‘I know well what I am fleeing from but not what I am in search of’. That was, of course, a quote from Michel de Montaigne—Hermione recognized it as such.

She cried that night, wishing that he had felt that it was her he was in search of. She understood why he had done it, it just hurt that he hadn’t even said goodbye. He hadn’t said if he was going to come back.

Her fiancé had asked her out a few weeks later and she had accepted, trying anything and everything to smother the pain before it consumed her. It was obvious he loved her and cared for her, and it was flattering and all, but she just couldn’t fall in love with him in return. He had popped the question just a couple months ago and she had accepted, not wanting to disappoint him especially when the only reason she would’ve said no had been gone for over a year and a half. No communication, no contact, no hint of his whereabouts or how he was doing. Hermione didn’t know when—and even if—he would ever return. And even though she may have loved him, she wasn’t going to wait for him for forever. She only had one life to live and if she couldn’t claim her happiness, she would make sure to ensure another’s.

That was how she found herself angrily swiping tears off her face as she held her wedding gown on the couch on a Friday afternoon. She didn’t know why she still bothered to cry over it; she was stronger than that.

The doorbell rang, jarring her out of her thoughts, and she sighed again before placing her dress down carefully and walking over to the door. She opened it and her mouth immediately dropped open as a whirlwind of emotions assaulted her. Anger, happiness, sadness, and love waged war in her as she took in Harry Potter, who seemed to have gain a fashion sense, a tan, and a bit of muscle during his two years of vacation.

He was grinning, but it was no longer his boyish, immature grin. This was a sexy grin, a confident grin, a grin of a man who knew what he was doing. A grin that sent shivers down Hermione’s spine. A grin that made her want to cry.

She started, “Harry James—mmph!”

Harry had smashed his lips against hers, holding her in place by her waist. Hermione kissed him back in bliss for only a second before realization hit her upside the head and she pushed him off, flustered and panting. “Harry James Potter, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.

Harry smiled, spread his arms wide, and cried, “I’m in love with you, Hermione! A few days ago I finally realized what I had been searching for all along! It was you!”

Hermione’s heart was soaring, she was on cloud nine! Harry was in love with her! Finally!

Then her logical sense kicked in. Harry was in love with her…and she was to be married to another. Then anger hit her full force. How dare Harry put her in a situation like this! She folded her arms over her chest, making her engagement ring glaringly obvious to the man in front of her. And her heart broke as she first saw confusion etched into his features, then his smile slowly slid off his face as he blinked at it for a few seconds longer. “I thought…” he said, more to himself than to her.

“You thought what?” she asked angrily for fear that if she asked it with compassion she would burst into tears.

He seemed to notice her again and looked up into her eyes, pain and heartbreak shining through his. “I looked at our friendship long and hard,” he explained quietly. “I thought…you loved me too.”

Why does he have to make this so hard? she thought to herself. “You’re right,” she said simply, and now he was even more confused. “I was in love with you.”

“But…not anymore?” he asked, seeming a lot younger again, reminding her of the lost boy from their early days of Hogwarts.

No matter how much she wanted to, Hermione found that she couldn’t lie to him. “How could I not love you anymore?” she asked quietly, her anger finally subsiding and tears clouding her vision.

“You’re getting married,” he said as she saw his old wall that kept everyone out being rebuilt brick by brick with every word she said.

“It doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” she said.

“So you don’t love your fiancé?” he asked.

“Not like I love you,” she said back, her heart moving up towards her throat as his eyes showed more and more pain. His eyes were the only thing the wall didn’t block, they were the windows to his soul and she could see through them perfectly.

“Then why are you marrying him?” he asked in a whisper.

“Because he loves me,” said Hermione.

“Don’t you think that people deserve to be married to someone who’s going to love them back just as much?” he asked.

And anger began to seep back in Hermione. “Are you suggesting that I should break up with my fiancé the day before our wedding just because you finally pulled your head out of your arse?” she asked dangerously.

“You’re getting married tomorrow?” he asked incredulously before shaking his head. “Never mind, that’s not the point. And yes, I’m suggesting exactly that!”

“Harry!” she said, shocked. “I can’t believe you! How can you be so selfish?”

“How can I be so selfish?” he yelled, his anger mounting in return. “I was destined to kill an evil wizard when I was one and did so when I was seventeen! I never knew my parents! I was raised by people who hated me! So excuse me if for once in my fucking life I want to be selfish! Everything’s been shit for me except when I’ve been with you and when I realized I love you!”

“You’ve already had your bout of selfishness, you stupid prat!” she yelled back. “If you wouldn’t have been selfish in the first place and never left, we wouldn’t be having this problem!”

They both stood there for a minute, breathing hard and trying to regain their composure. “Leave him,” Harry said after a short pause. “Be with me. I love you.”

“You’d really do that to Ron?” she asked in a low voice, tears thick in it.

Harry sucked in a breath. “You’re getting married…to Ron?” he asked.

Hermione nodded, rubbing the tears off her face. “So if you still want me to leave him right now, just tell me. Because I can’t fight you any longer.”

Harry swallowed hard, weighing his options. “Come with me,” he finally said, his voice a touch desperate.

And her tears burst forth as her face turned a dangerous shade of red. “Fuck you, Harry Potter!” she yelled. “He’s your best friend! Your answer was supposed to be for me to stay with him!”

“You’re my best friend!” he yelled back. He sank to his knees. “I love you,” he said quietly, trying to reach for her hands, which she pulled back. “And you love me too. For once in my life I just want to be happy,” he said miserably.

She conjured a wedding invitation and shoved it into his hands. “Maybe you’ll be happy when you see how happy Ron is tomorrow,” she said shakily as she tried to stop more tears from coming out.

She closed the door in his face and put her back against it, sinking down onto her butt before crying into her knees.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

“Ronald Weasley, do you take this woman, Hermione Granger, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, asked him.

“I do,” he said nervously.

Harry stared into Hermione’s eyes, his face stony. Two years. Two years had passed and this was the consequence. He finally found what would make him happy. And she would never be his.

Hermione was staring back into his eyes as he watched from the crowd. Harry didn’t change his facial expression one bit. “Hermione Granger, do you take this man, Ronald Weasley, to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Harry’s stomach clenched and his heart twisted. His facial expression didn’t change even one bit.

And she stared into Harry’s eyes as she said, “I do.”

And he knew he would never be able to put the broken pieces of his heart back together.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

22-year-old Hermione Granger sighed as she watched Ron read the Daily Prophet as he ate breakfast.

Harry had disappeared before the wedding reception, this time with no note. It was a message directly to Hermione. And even though it wasn’t spoken or written, she knew exactly what it was.

She had cried again when she was sure Ron was asleep that night. And if anything, she had fallen even more in love with Harry as the days passed.

Ron was a good husband and she had done her best to be a good wife. Yet they had never consummated their marriage. That one she had no answer to. Wouldn’t Ron want to considering the fact that he loved her and was married to her? He had never tried to push her into anything and even when she knew she was ready and was giving him signs indicating as much, he never moved on.

Oddly, all her question would be answered within the next few minutes.

Ron sighed right after Hermione had and folded up his paper before steepling his fingers in front of him. “Hermione,” he said, “we need to talk.”

“Okay,” she said a tad apprehensively, afraid he had figured out her secret about Harry.

“I have a confession to make,” he said before pausing for a second, leaving Hermione in suspense. “I can’t do this to you anymore.”

“Can’t do what?” she said, terror rising.

“Please don’t hate me,” he said. “But…I’m not in love with you.” Hermione blinked in shock and before she had time to respond, Ron continued. “I thought I could tough it out. I mean…you love me, and I thought I could grow to love you in return.”

“Wait…” she said, shocked. “You don’t love me?”

Ron had tears in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hermione. But I care for you as a sister and I thought I could make you happy. But it’s hard to make you happy when I don’t feel that way myself.” He swallowed hard. “The truth is…I’m in love with Luna.”

To his complete shock, a brilliant smile lit up her face. “Oh Ron,” she said. “I understand completely where you’re coming from. I’ve never loved you like that either. I was just trying to make you happy.”

“Really?” he asked, relief evident in his voice that he hadn’t broken her heart. “Well, who do you...Harry?” he asked, putting two and two together.

Hermione nodded solemnly, her eyes downcast. Ron gave her a sympathetic look and conjured a small stack of papers. “Here are the divorce papers,” he said. “You might want to sign these as quickly as possible and get to finding him. You have your work cut out for you.”

“I know,” she said absentmindedly as she signed her name in all the spots required. When she finished she vanished her quill and ink as the divorce papers vanished back to the Ministry. She looked up into Ron’s eyes with steely determination. “But he’s worth it.”

Ron nodded in understanding and the two gave each other hugs and wished each other luck before they both apparated to separate destinations, Ron to Luna’s house and Hermione to the ministry to begin her search for Harry.

Because he was most definitely worth it.

.oOo.oOo.oOo.

23-year-old Hermione Granger stood looking at Potter Manor, which had taken her over a little over a year to find despite the exhaustive resources at her disposal (Minister Shacklebolt had given her complete access to the Minister’s Archives). It was well-hidden as all old Pureblood mansions and manors were, but she had done it. And here she was in a remote area of Scotland, sweating profusely under the blazing sun.

She honestly didn’t know if Harry would be at his family’s manor, which was absolutely huge, but it was the only lead she had at the moment. She looked around before walking up to the front door and knocking. The door must’ve had a sonorous charm on it for she heard the knocking booming throughout the whole house. She waited a few minutes before knocking again and when nobody answered her heart dropped to her feet. She was about to apparate away when the thought hit her to check the back—why not?—so she walked around the manor, unable to stop her hopes from rising.

There was a shirtless man in back digging a hole in the ground, his back and arm muscles rippling and flexing as he fought Earth. She could only see his back, but she knew instantly that it was Harry, for who else’s hair stuck up like that? She slowly approached him, unable to believe her eyes. She’d found him…

“Get the fuck off my property,” he said without looking away from his digging.

She understood his anger and decided to let it slide. “Harry, I want to talk.”

“Well I don’t,” he replied, his digging becoming more ferocious. “So get the fuck off my property, Hermione Weasley.”

“Grow up, Harry,” said Hermione condescendingly. “I’m not going to let you run away from your problems a third time.”

He sighed and stopped shoveling, finally turning to face her. He was still tan and had to keep pushing his glasses up his sweaty, incredibly handsome face. His eyes still held every bit of pain that they had held the last time she had seen them. “I wasn’t running away from my problems. I’m trying to get my problem to run away from me. So leave, because in case you didn’t notice, this is my house.”

Hermione frowned but didn’t budge. Harry just made an annoyed sound and went back to digging. Hermione finally spoke. “I’m not Hermione Weasley, you know. Hermione Granger. We got divorced last year.”

“That’s nice,” Harry grunted as he hit a harder spot of earth, forcing his muscles to flex more (Hermione had to tell herself not to stare). “Why do you think I give a fuck what happened between you two?”

Hermione’s lips pursed and she told herself not to hold it against this heartbroken man, yet her anger was rising.”I thought you’d be interested in why we got divorced,” she said.

“Nope,” said Harry, laying the shovel down and getting one knee. “Don’t care.”

He picked up the sapling that was in a pot next to the hole and planted it as Hermione watched on, trying to think of what her response to that was. He stood up and wiped the sweat off his forehead with his arm as she said, “I’m still in love with you.”

“Once again,” he said lifelessly as he shaded his eyes and looked farther out across his land, “why do you think I give a fuck?”

Tears sprung to Hermione’s eyes. She hadn’t expected him to instantly forgive her, but she hadn’t expected him to be this mean either. She grabbed his muscled arm and forced him to turn around and look at her before gently kissing him, almost fainting from relief when he began kissing her back. She broke the kiss after a few seconds and said, “That’s why I think you give a fuck, Harry.”

“That doesn’t mean shit,” Harry said angrily, his face burning red. “I’m a twenty-two-year-old man, you think I wouldn’t kiss back a woman who kissed me first?”

Hermione smirked at him. “I know you’re not that type of man,” she said. “I know you’d only kiss someone if there was meaning behind it. Face it, you still love me.”

“You’re telling me as if I didn’t know that,” he said, walking back towards his manor. “But it doesn’t matter if I still love you or not. All that matters is the fact that you chose him over me and broke my heart.”

Harry went inside and left the door open behind him, which Hermione took as an invitation to come in. He sure was being the master of mixed messages at the moment. His subconscious wanted her, she just needed to sway his consciousness.

They arrived in the kitchen, where Harry poured himself a glass of milk. Hermione watched as he drained the whole thing, his throat working with each swallow. The room got hotter.

“Can’t you just accept the fact that I’m human and I made a mistake?” she asked. “All that should matter to you is that I love you and I’m here right now and want to be with you.”

She slowly started walking towards him, backing him into a corner. He swallowed and whispered, “You broke my heart.”

She got so close her body was pressed up against his, and she looked up into his eyes as she whispered, “Than let me mend it.”

With that she pressed her lips against his again, coaxing another response out of him. He grabbed her upper arms and made as if to push her off, then seemed to give up. As they continued kissing his hands slowly slid down her arms until they met hers, where their fingers intertwined. “Only if it’s for forever,” he breathed against her lips.

She kissed him again and squeezed his hands gently. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” she whispered back. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said before claiming her lips again.

Forever.