Shattering A Broken Heart

(scenario) A separated family

Hermione stood on the porch, her heart in her throat and her hands clammy with sweat. The hand on her shoulder was the only reason she hadn't Disapparated yet.

"You can do this. I believe in you," Harry whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her.

Hermione stumbled back against his chest and murmured, "I can't, Harry… What will they think of me? They're going to hate me… I—I stole their memories, Harry!"

"You did it for their own good," he reminded her patiently. It was the seventeenth time they were having the same conversation, but Harry's patience knew no bounds.

"Yes, but—" Hermione stopped when the door began to swing inwards and a middle-aged man with wavy brown hair stepped out. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Hermione and Harry, a frown marring his features.

"May I help you?" he asked, glancing at them curiously.

Hermione had nowhere to run; she was trapped. On one hand, she wanted to throw herself into her father's arms and cry in relief, but at the same time, she was aware that he didn't know who she was.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she squared her shoulders and said, "Mr Wikins, my name is Hermione, and this is my friend, Harry. We want to talk to you and your wife about your life in London."

The man's eyes widened and his eyebrows almost reached his hairline. "How do you know we used to live in London? Who are you two?" he asked, his tone suspicious.

"May we please come in?" Harry asked, making sure to keep his tone polite. "We mean you no harm, Mr Wilkins."

Just then, a woman with short dark hair and equally dark eyes waddled over to them, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat at the sight. She placed her hand on her obviously pregnant belly and squinted at the two teenagers. "What's going on, Wendell? Who are these people?"

"Monica, this is Harry and Hermione… They say they want to talk to us about our life in London," the man said, immediately wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"You're pregnant," Hermione blurted out, her eyes almost bulging in shock. She would have a sibling. She would be a sister. Harry quickly placed his hand on her waist and squeezed, warning her to remain calm before they could get suspicious.

The smile on the woman's face was radiant as she gazed down at her bulge. "Yes, I'm seven months along now."

"She's pregnant," Hermione whispered to herself, and Harry's heart clenched when he heard her dispirited tone. She sounds so broken.

She looked up at Harry, her nose already red as she tried to hold her tears at bay. "We should leave."

"Don't you want to—" Harry started to say, but Hermione interrupted him.

"No, they're obviously happy here," Hermione murmured, looking at her parents, who stood gazing at each other with complete adoration and love. There was no place for her in their life. "They were never this happy back in London. With… me."

"You were saying something?" the man asked, turning to look at them curiously.

"We're sorry we bothered you, Mr Wilkins," Hermione said in a calm and collected tone, not revealing her feelings. How she managed to do so was a mystery to Harry, but he remained faithful by her side. Her smile didn't waver when she said, "Have a good day… and congratulations. I wish you the very best."

"Thank you, dear," the woman said with a bright smile, and they walked back into the house, leaving Hermione behind.

"Hermione, I still think you should tell—"

"No, Harry… They're happy, and that's enough for me."

Harry wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tightly, and she buried her face in his chest, inhaling his masculine scent. Tears streamed down her face as the realisation hit her hard, and she tightened her hold on his black jacket.

"I'm an orphan now," she whispered against his chest. "I've got no family left."

Harry kissed the top of her head and whispered, "You're wrong, Mione. I'm your family—just as much as you are mine."