Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything associated with it. I don't own the Playboy mansion, Billboard charts, or Nobel Prize. The title "The Space Between" is named after a song by the Dave Matthews Band.

A/N: Review and I'll give you a Princess hat. Thank you to the two people who reviewed Paper Soldier; however, I will not be continuing it. Thank you to the people who reviewed Elvis Is Our King.

Summary: Hermione Granger is a free spirited American who just ran out on her own wedding. Harry Potter is a famous musician engaged to his boss' daughter. So, how exactly do they find themselves falling for each other?

…The Space Between…

"I…I can't," I said as I dropped the bouquet I'd been holding for hours. My hands were clammy, and the air felt cool against my palms.

"What?" Oliver hissed as he cast a side long glance at the large crowd sitting silently in the pews.

"I said I can't," I mumbled, looking down at my hands. I was afraid to look in Oliver's eyes. What if I lost the nerve I'd built up and married him?

"Why?!" He demanded loudly. I winced as the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves.

"Because," I started slowly. "It's not right. Don't you see that? Ollie, It'd never work, and you know it!"

Oliver just stared at me dumbfounded. I reached out a hand to touch him, but he jerked back, shaking his head furiously. Out of the corner of my eye I could see several family members stand. I had to get out. Had to leave as fast as I could. I dropped my hand to my side and looked at Oliver sadly.

"I love you," I smiled before turning on my heel and running down the long aisle. My wedding gown felt heavy as I made my way through the doors and down the stone steps of the church. I ran as fast as any woman could in a $3,000 dress. Past the park across the street, the small shops down the main road, and to my small apartment.

I leaned against the door in a daze. My breathing labored, and my heart in an iron grip. I placed a manicured hand on my side, and concentrated on breathing. 'In, out' I repeated over and over in my mind. After I had regained my breathing, and the pain in my side had stopped, I stepped inside my apartment and sighed.

I kicked off my scuffed heels, and slid my gown down my waist. It landed around my ankles in a neat pile of ivory and gold. Walking to my dresser I quickly pulled on a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top. By chance I glanced up at the mirror above my bed and winced.

My hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a few curls surrounding my flushed face. My red lips looked disgusting, and my skin clammy. My eyes were red and puffy from the crying I had done while running past old women with shopping bags. The shrill ringing of my phone startled me, and I jumped before turning around.

"Mayo, it's me," Ginny's soft voice played on the answering machine. "Oliver just called, and…um, I really need to talk to you. So, call me back as soon as you get this. Ok? Bye."

"Bye," I mumbled to the quiet room after she'd hung up. I looked longingly at my bed as Crookshanks wrapped himself around my legs. "What do you say to a nap?" I asked as I scoped him into my arms and fell dramatically on my bed.

\m/ (^_^) \m/

"So you just ran out?" Ginny asked dazed as she leaned back further in her seat. I nodded meekly and took a sip of my hot chocolate. "Wow," she breathed.

"It's not something to be proud of," I stated quietly as I set my mug down. Ginny gave me a sympathetic smile and turned to her bran muffin.

"I never said it was," she said through a mouthful. "I can only imagine how you must feel."

"Not that bad," I shrugged. "You knew it'd never work. I knew it'd never work. The whole, God-damn world knew."

"Still," Ginny said, poking at the crumbs on her plate. "Don't you feel a little sad?"

"Yes," I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. "I mean, not about calling it off; but by losing such a great friend."

"I'm sure he'll come around," Ginny smiled.

"I highly doubt that," I said as I sank lower in my seat. "I'd never forgive a man if he decided to run out on me on our wedding day."

"You never know," Ginny shrugged as a waitress hurriedly made her way past our table. I looked out the window to the main road and sighed. I didn't need to be talking about this, especially on the day after it'd just happened.

"How's Ron?" I asked as I propped my elbows on the table.

"Living in luxury," Ginny snorted. "He went to the Playboy mansion. I swear he's let it all go to his head."

"Ego grown that much?" I laughed.

"You have no idea," Ginny grumbled as she rubbed her temples in mock annoyance.

"So, the band's doing good?" I asked after we had stopped laughing at Ron's expense.

"Better," Ginny smiled. "They just released their first single, and all ready it's number one on the Billboard charts."

"Pretty impressive," I said, clapping my hands. "So, who exactly is in the band besides Ron and Seamus?"

"Harry and Dean," Ginny said. "They're nice; although, I've only met them once or twice."

"Harry…I think I've heard that name before," I mumbled as I pushed my mug of hot chocolate around.

"I'm sure you have," Ginny laughed. "He's in practically every magazine."

"What?" I asked startled. "What's he do? Win the Nobel Prize?"

"No, but he is the lead singer," Ginny grinned. "And a good looking one at that."

"Gin!" I laughed.

"What?" she asked embarrassed. "It's ok to look. It's not like anything would happen anyway. He's engaged."

"Well, I'm sure she's lucky then," I smiled.

\m/ (^_^) \m/

"Hermione," My boss, Angelina, called. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sure," I nodded and made my way around the cubicles to her office. Her office was small and cramped, and her desk looked about ready to collapse with all the paper on it. She motioned to a leather chair and I sat down. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"Well," She began. "I know you probably don't want to stay here. I mean, with the possibility of running into Oliver and all."

"Ok," I answered, unsure if she was telling me I was fired.

"Great," She smiled. "It's settled then."

"What's settled?"

"Hmm," Angelina said as she shuffled through a manila folder. "Oh, that you're being given a promotion. Moving on up the ladder."

"Oh," I smiled. "So, what exactly am I doing?"

"You, my dear girl," She grinned, standing up. "Are going to go on tour with an upcoming band. You'll be promoting them."

"I…I'm sorry," I coughed. "I could have sworn I heard you say I'm going on tour."

"I did," Angelina smiled, handing me the folder she'd been looking through. "You start in a week, so get packed."

I nodded and walked out of her office in a daze. Once back in the safety of my cubicle I looked down at the manila folder I still held in a tight grip. Taking in a breath and letting out slowly I opened the folder fearing the worst. A black and white picture of Ron grinning met my gaze and I let out a small laugh. I spent the rest of the day looking at band photos and reading up on their profiles.

Ron was the loud, but lovable drummer. Seamus was the sexy guitarist, what with his blonde hair and dimples. Dean was the sporty bass player. Who, may I add, had a horrible cursing habit. Then there was Harry. The main man of the band. Número uno.

'Sleek and mysterious, with a playful side,' his profile had said. The lead singer who happened to write all the bands lyrics. 'A true artist.' He had shaggy black hair and bright green eyes. Just looking at him made you want to drag him off to your bedroom. All I have to say, is that his fiancée was one hell of a lucky girl.

That, and Heaven help me if I'm to tour with them.