Author's Note: When you have the feels, you write. At least I do anyway. Just a quick one-shot to try and alleviate the drama raging inside my own body. Thank you! Please review when you're finished reading. Always appreciate your kind words of encouragement!

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

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Prompt: Journal, Ceremony, Teardrop, "Had I known this would be our last dance, I would have dressed for the occasion." (Courtesy of starrnobella)

Rated: M
Pairing: Hermione/Ron with Hermione/Draco
Warnings: Implied infidelity.
Song recommendation: "Breaking Your Own Heart" by Kelly Clarkson

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Breaking Your Own Heart

You suspected before the ceremony even started that you were making the wrong decision. You knew two weeks in when he told you that he was quitting his job at the Ministry to go work in his brother's joke shop that you might be right. You definitely knew five years later, when you were still childless and the intimacy and I loves you's dwindled down to nearly nothing that you'd made the biggest mistake of your life. Unfortunately, when you were constantly being told how fantastic a couple you made, or the fact that his family absolutely adored you, somehow you made due. You woke up and went about your day, and then came home to make dinner before suffering through nearly silent evenings. Then, you went to bed, sleeping next to each other, but miles apart.

In between, you wondered when you would wake up and feel the same way you did in the beginning. You wondered if it would be tomorrow, or the next day…or the next. You contemplate having children just so there would be someone else there to share your love with, someone you knew you could love unconditionally. Without forcing yourself to. When the realization that bringing children into a loveless marriage would be an even more horrible mistake, you stop talking about it. You return to the way things were. Wiping teardrop after teardrop away as they fall from your eyes, trying not to soak your pillow through before falling into a fitful sleep.

He sleeps soundly. Like nothing is wrong. To him, everything is fine. He has no idea.

You find other things to occupy your time. You work with those less fortunate than you, staying later at work or volunteering your time to advocate for house elves and werewolves. You get irrationally angry when he wants to be there to, but you find excuses for him not to be. You feel relief when he has to work late hours and you can be alone with your thoughts, not having to pretend to be interested in his talks about Quidditch or how he is doing at the Joke shop. You write in your journal, penning stories of a better life, a life you wish you were living. A life that will never be.

You learn to hate yourself, if only because you feel like you're being a horrible person. You start to think you deserve this somehow, that something in your past led you to this miserable existence you now live. You let yourself go, figuring no one wants you anyway. Not him definitely because you know he's taking care of himself, not bothering to come to you for intimacy. The few attempts you make are short lived and unexciting. You give up. Learn to take care of yourself, like you used to do.

You settle. Always settle.

Then.

Then, one day an unexpected change at work leads to a change in you. You're given a new teammate. He's pleasant and charming, and his snarky sarcasm is a far cry from the scathing, hurtful words that he used to throw at you all those years ago. He's a changed man, and you fall hard.

Suddenly, you're staying later at work for an entirely different reason. You're finding reasons to go to his office, to accidentally touch his hand when passing him files, to make him laugh and tease you. You send him owls whenever you can, anxiously waiting for a reply. Disappointment settling in when nothing comes of it. You worry that what you're doing is wrong, yet nothing has even happened yet. You don't even know if it will. If he's even interested in you that way. It could be nothing. It could be everything.

You have a successful week at work, and feeling giddy, go for a high-five, but he changes it at the last minute, instead allowing you to hold his hand. You stare at him in shock for second before laughing nervously, pulling away to brush the curls from your face. In front of the fireplaces where you'll both floo to separate homes, you ask if you can owl him over the weekend. He agrees. You leave with a smile on your face.

Things progress from there. Lingering looks. More accidentally on purpose touches. You grow closer to him, and further and further apart from the man you're supposed to be with. You wake up each day wondering if you're a horrible person, if what you are doing is right. You go to sleep with your stomach in knots, wondering if tomorrow will be the day something significant happens…something that will help you decide what to do next. Where to go from here.

There's no one to turn to, no one to talk to about the raging emotions inside your very being. You struggle to eat, to sleep, to breathe from the intensity of it all. You lose weight. You start to feel more like your old self. You make more of an effort in the morning, wanting to look good for not only yourself, but your coworker. You want him to notice you, to want you.

And then it happens.

There's that moment where things move past accidental and playful to the point where you have to make a decision. Do you move forward with him and end things with the man waiting at home, or do you forget this ever happened…? You have mere seconds to decide, seconds that feel like centuries, and yet at the same time are not long enough. Your hesitation is enough though. Enough for him. He pulls away, hands dropping from your trembling body. His disappointment is paramount, but it's nothing compared to the regret you feel. Regret for what, you have no idea. You try to meet his grey eyes, but fail miserably.

"Had I known this would be our last dance, I would have dressed for the occasion," he whispers playfully sad in your ear before dropping a kiss to your cheek and disappearing back out into the hallway. Leaving you alone with your wildly beating heart and shaking hands. Teardrops welling in your brown eyes.

And although your chest is aching, heart shattering into a million tiny pieces, you put on a brave face and you go back to where you're supposed to be. The good girl. The nice girl. The one that doesn't break apart at the seams. The one that doesn't pull the broom out from underneath the man she pledged her life to. Someday, maybe, you will have your chance, but for now…you're forced to put your happiness on the backburner, because you're scared. Frightened of the unknown. Of being alone. And, as always, you're breaking your own heart.