The thing is: I'm broken.
She may come to me and give me one of those smiles that could light up a whole damn country, she may hold me close and whisper words of love into my ear. She may come to me before every full moon just to be sure that I have everything under control and say goodbye with a tender kiss but this just doesn't seem right.
She is the one, mum always says. She tells me I will never find anyone who will be just like her and – mom will confess to me in a low voice how much Ron was stupid and ended up losing her, even though I protest and says you can never lose something that was never yours in the first place – I know she is right. I know I feel those stupid butterflies in my stomach just like an unexperienced teenager whenever I see the messy hair coming into my direction and how much I wish I could stop time just to be with her – in between her arms, in between her legs – and Merlin knows how much I hate admitting it to myself.
But once again the thing is: I'm broken.
Not like an old vase someone owned and can be easily fixed with a reparo. I'm broken in so many ways that I hardly doubt I can ever be fixed. I'm old. I'm a father. I'm divorced. I almost became a werewolf. I have ugly scars. I have baggage. I am just too broken to ever bother to be repaired. But whenever I say that, she just laughs.
She says I'm not as bad as I desperatly try to convince her while serving me raw meat. She smiles and winks at me while going upstairs to call Victoire to come and have dinner with us, saying it is about time for me to give up those silly thoughts. I know she is much more than I deserve and whenever I come up with those words she just tells me to shut up and keep doing whatever I was doing. She is a war heroine but all I can think is how much better she would be without me, with someone of her age, someone ready and able to give her the perfect life she deserves, to be a husband and have two kids and a cat, someone who did not need to be fixed.
But there is one thing with her. I heard Ginny's theory and I confess that part of me was glad with what she said: Hermione is not a girl who needs someone. She does not need to be with a person like she needs knowledge. She is an independent woman that – Merlin knows why – chose to be with me. She could throw me away at any moment but she insists in staying with me. She knows I may never put a ring around her finger but she doesn't care: she is not someone who needs a piece of paper to prove our love. She knows I have secrets and she does not try to know them, she keeps repeating that we have all the time of the world to talk about this if we ever want to. She came into my life out of nowhere but somehow I can't ever let her go. All I know is that I love her and she loves me.
Even if I'm broken.
N/A: As you must have realized, English is not my mother language.
This fanfic has not been seen by a beta because it was a simple drabble I decided to write in a cold January night.
Thanks for reading and feel free to review!