Hi there. :)

So here we are. My second Harry Potter story is up. Yay. :D It is something like the follow-up of "Broken" though now that I finally finished it I believe it more to be a stand-alone. In any case it deals with the time at Shell Cottage. I know that this has been done a thousand times already, but still I hope that I created something new. :)

Now, before you go off reading, please note that you ought to know three little things.
1) This was originally a two-chaptered fic. But after I had finished it I had to realize that the 2 chapters did not fit together at all, and thus I decided to give up on ch1 and make ch2 be a story on its own.
2) This is the reason why I told you number 1: The idea behind this story is that when Ron found out about what Hermione has been scarred with (movie verse; and I believe he had no chance to notice during the escape), he sort-of shunned her and went to the shore in order to get rid of and deal with his emotions on his own (which was the content of the deleted ch 1). I am aware that some might think this to be OOC, but actually I think that all what they have been through, especially the events at Malfoy Manor, would affect him and also Hermione a great deal - which is also why I didn't take on the relieved mood of the end of 'Broken' by the way. However, I hope that I was able to portray a more mature and emotional Ron well.
3) Whenever there is a 'she' or 'her' mentioned and written in Italics, this refers to Bellatrix (same goes for the 'them' which refers to the DeathEaters).

Well now, that's all I wanted to say. I will shut up now and let you read.

Review, as always, is most appreciated! And anonymous one is activated.

I hope you do enjoy!
TiaKisu

Shattered

He stands at the edge of the dune, and the cold evening winds rush past him and pull on his hair fiercely. He turns around angrily, lets the harsh breeze push the wild strands out of his face. His blue eyes glare at the vast horizon, their pale colour darkening in the slowly setting sun's light. He exhales sharply and while in the shadows of his breath a whisper melts into the air around him, he lifts his arm, lets the tingling sensation consume his every being and with a sudden cry he releases the spell that's been dreading to choke him.

He's panting when his gaze settles on the broken tinman that's lying now so far from him. He takes in the smoke that ascends from what he had created, stares at the still glimmering remnants of the figure. He wants to scream at it, wants to shout out his rage and yet he remains silent.

He has carved her name into the cold and dead surface, has created something that he had hoped would release him from the pain he is feeling deep within.
Something that would save him from the darkness that he could not fight.

He has crashed the figure a thousand times already, has taken revenge with every blast he sent its way and yet he still feels the same cold, the same anger – still feels the same fear that had already been drowning him back there.

Ragged breaths escape his lungs and he closes his eyes forcefully. The winds around him howl and as the waves crash against the shore, he hears her voice again. Her cries surround him, echoing like thunder and taking him back to this one moment in which his heart stopped beating. And as the emptiness washes over him, so does the hate. Suddenly he feels something inside him flare up and without even looking at it, he shoots another spell at what he wishes was the witch.
By now he is tired and exhausted and yet his spells still come one after one, just like they had before.
His eyes are shut so tightly and yet they can still spot it. He sees it shimmer through the darkness, glaring at him mockingly and telling him that he failed. Each letter on her skin seems to scream at him, seems to hiss at him using her voice; reminds him that he could not protect her from the dark.
He wants to silence the noise, wants it all to stop and so he attacks the lifeless metal again and again, fighting off the agony that spreads with every minute that passes by. It's a desperate cry that leaves his lips as the most powerful of all his spells enters his wand and when he hears the magic hit the ground, he finally looks up. His gaze blurs slightly as, where the figure once lay, only smoke and ashes meet his sight. Tears are forming in the corners of his eyes, and his flushed cheeks tell the stories of those which have long dried but just for once he doesn't care. He wants to sink to his knees, feels how deep inside something still seems to be breaking.
The moment he spotted the marks on her arm something inside of him died and he feels that the cold which started to emanate from his heart in this very minute slowly claims his soul as well. It makes him want to cry out, makes him want to cry for her. But all he does is run from the one he feels he let down in the worst of all ways.
All he does is run from her.

Somewhere deep inside he knows he hurt her; and his heart aches as he remembers the look she has given him when he left. Her whisper still seems to echo in his ears albeit he knows she did not say a single word. But as clearly as in his head he can hear his own voice call her name, can he hear hers plead him to stay. And he wants to reply to it so badly, wants to go back and make both of them believe that somehow things would be alright again. But he knows that she is right; knew it when he saw her burnt skin – knew when he saw the hurt in her eyes. His world stopped turning for a moment then, and somehow he feels like it still was frozen, trapped in between the hours and not moving even the slightest bit.
A suppressed sob leaves his lips then, and he wishes he had reached out to her earlier. That he would have told her that it didn't matter what they saw in her, because he saw so much more. That, to him, she would never be anyone else but the one she truly is. And that words were nothing but a veil that could be broken.
But he had said none of this; had just left her stay behind, had failed her yet another time.

It's his eyes that open angrily at that thought, allowing a lone tear to trickle down his face. He breathes heavily as the agony of the past hours, the past weeks – as the agony of the past months washes over him and makes him wish to scream out once more. He lifts his right arm again, lets the tingling begin and his blue gaze settle on the distance where the tinman lay. His lips move quietly, forming words that only he can hear and he feels the magic flow through him, fill his every being and carry his whole despair when suddenly everything around him comes to a halt. His spell dies before it could be born, the whisper echoing in the air around him until nothing but the restless sea's call could be heard.
From the grey mists that emanate from the still warm dunes a figure is emerging. He stares at her for a heartbeat, needs no time to recognize her face. He sees her watch him for a moment, can even see through the settling darkness how her features mirror a frown. He knows she saw the crumbled figure beneath her feet, knows that she wonders just what this means. Her lips are half parted as she takes the smallest of steps towards him, a silent question surrounding her but she does not say a word. Her hazel gaze just lies on him and as the crimson sunlight settles on her, for a second he believes that maybe she is just an illusion.

Without being aware of it he suddenly feels his feet move and it takes him only so few steps until he, too, is bathed in what little light the setting sun can still provide. And here they linger in silence, each of them watching the other quietly. His eyes never leave her and while the winds whirl around them, he searches for the words that he knows he should have long said, but yet again he cannot find even one.
His lips part slightly and the cold air does meet his senses as his pale gaze takes her all in.
Her hair is tied back lightly, only a few strands framing her face. Her eyes seem tired as she looks back at him, shadows lying beneath them – shadows that he wishes he could just erase. There are little lines on her skin that he knows weren't there before and just for a second he thinks that she aged in only this one day, that the stubborn young girl she once was is lost forever.
The one who stands in front of him now has seen too much darkness and too much pain. And she looks openly at him now, her gaze focusing on no one else but him.
He falters at first, fears what he would find in those depths that he once knew so well but as his own breath forms a cloud in the cool evening breeze, he finally allows her to let him in. And he sees it all unfolded there, uncovered as the wall she had built up so well breaks with every beat her heart takes.
His blue eyes look into hers and suddenly he recognizes the same emptiness, the same agony and pain in them that he also feels inside. And it almost breaks him to see them there – hurts him more than it does to feel all of them himself. He thinks of the tinman in that moment; thinks of how his rage was his only way to fight this helplessness that still dreads to choke him in every waking minute. He feels his lungs fight heavily, feels how each breath he takes stings in his chest, making him believe that it will burst if his heart beats only one more time. And he still takes her in, feels his whole soul be consumed by her. His gaze is tied to her own, exploring it and reading the lines that for so long she had kept sealed. And then suddenly he sees it, notices the glimmer that lies in the corners of her eyes. She blinks rapidly, chases the pain away and yet he knows it will linger, as will the tears.
He feels like his feet are losing their ground when in this one moment, in the second her gaze glistens in the darkness that's slowly enveloping them, his heart is screaming out for her. For he finally understands what she is telling him without needing any words to say, finally sees her for the one she is.
In his head he is cursing the world when he sees her broken shell, curses the dark when he sees what they left of her; curses themas he understands that all he sees is someone who is lost.

"God, I'm so sorry!"

The words leave his lips as a whisper, but as loud as the evening winds is their echo. Mighty as the furious waves is their sound. He hears her gasp and in that one moment in which they reach her ears, her walls crumble. Tears are streaming down her face, unhindered now and free. He feels his fingers move, feels them touch warm skin that is damp from hurt that for too long has been buried inside. But it is not her face his fingers linger on, and it's not her tears he senses.
He notices her eyes widen when in their depths he can see himself cry along with her. And with each tear that falls words do leave his soul, words he had never spoken, words that only she would hear; words that would get lost in the breeze if no one knew to take them up.
His feet then move without him demanding them to and while his eyes close tightly, he wraps his arms around her, bends his head to rest in the crook of her neck. He feels how she stiffens for a moment, feels her breathe in sharply under his embrace. And for a second he fears that he too often has walked from her, fears that he will fail her yet another time.
His breath gets caught in his lungs as his thoughts start haunting him, the burden she had to carry alone being almost unbearable to him. But then she relaxes against him; with a shudder brings her arms to encircle his back. Her face she hides beneath his chin and as her hot tears are streaming down his chest he hears her voice melt into his own.

Together they cry silently, their hearts beating in the same rhythm as their souls scream out all the pain they hold inside. And while the sun surrenders to the cold that has also crept into their lives, he feels how slowly a veil is being lifted. In that one moment in which she draws herself closer to him, he feels how beneath all the hurt something new emerges from the depths.
While she exhales against his neck, her warmth shielding him from the chill like nothing ever did before, he knows that she got his words. And the one who is lost ceases to exist as he protects her from the cold just as she does him. In this one moment, in which they are one, he feels all the anger dwindle and make way for something he had feared to have given up on.
In this one moment he believes that things could be alright again.
That somehow they would fight the dark.
That one day her scars would heal.
That the future was not yet lost to them.

.

He stands at the edge of the dune, and the cold night winds rush past him and the girl in his arms. While the pale moon shines upon all those who found the strength to not let go, they hold on to each other so dearly, silently letting their hearts speak when words just aren't enough.
The evening turns into night while slowly their tears subside; and for once in this dark time does a light surface from the abyss as after all what they have been through, together, their shattered souls finally get to rest.

A/N: Well, that's it already. Should there be any mistakes language wise, please do forgive me and feel free to point them out to me. I am my own beta and thus cannot always be sure to detect each and every flaw. :-[

And concerning the title: I am well aware that another fic with the same title has just been posted four days ago. I swear that this is nothing but a coincidence as I have settled on that title about two weeks ago.