Ten Years Ago

Be nice please as this is my first fic on this site. Constructive criticism is welcome, but no flames please. You might have read this story before, but since the ending was left ambiguous, I decided to change that.

DISCLAIMER: none of the characters are mine. I own just the plot.

31 October 2015

Dusk settled over the small town of Grisham. Children were coming out of the small cottages to go out trick-or-treating, their parents trudging along with glints of pride in their eyes. Soon the usually somber-looking village was quite lively with the sounds of laughing adolescents. Owls hooted and occasionally a `splat' was heard indicating that the house of some unfortunate soul was being egged by some of the older teens. Nobody minded, however, as that was included in the merry spirit of Halloween, rooted in the hearts of the locals as one of the most important events of the year.

Nobody noticed the taxi going through the village. Nobody noticed as it traveled the meandering road up the hillock where few of the villagers dared stalk close to, especially on Halloween. Nobody noticed as it stopped outside the small mansion which had been christened as the Godric's Hollow. The house had been long a mystery to the people of Grisham. 34 years ago, Mr. and Mrs. Potter were found dead after the house had collapsed suddenly. The whole village mourned the deaths, as James and Lily Potter were very kind and friendly people, even if they were quite wealthy. Then 17 years ago, their son, who had somehow survived and taken away for a long time had re-built the house and had moved in with his wife. The young couple was equally loved among the people as James and Lily were. But again, on Halloween, 10 years ago, both had disappeared along with their 6 year-old-son. It was rumored that Mr. Potter and his son James had died in a car crash and Mrs. Potter, overcome with grief had taken her life. The house had been devoid of residents ever since. Now, after more than three decades of strange happenings around Godric's Hollow, the locals had wisely started avoiding the old house.

A petite woman of around mid-thirties stepped out of the vehicle. She surveyed the house with her hawk-like eyes. However, her previously bright chocolate pools had been reduced to blunt ivory circles. It was hard to fathom that only a decade ago one would have remarked that these very eyes were the picture of perfection. The rapture in them long converted into odium. As one would continue studying her face, one would hardly miss the dark shadows under the eyes, their presence indicating years of sleepless nights and countless pails of tears shed. Her lips, once soft and rosy were now weathered and torn sporting a dull shade, almost grey. Her hair, which once fallen into elegant golden curls to her shoulders was nothing more than some strings attached to the scalp; the fact that the dried mud in them was over ten years old didn't help. She was remarkably thin, one could see bones through her limbs and her weakness was clearly evident as she struggled to even hold her purse steady as she paid the muggle cab driver.

`You're a vision of perfection'

Shutting her eyes as she heard those words in her mind again, soothing and haunting her at the same time. That voice was almost a need for her. On one side, her mind was yearning to hear that deep baritone. On the other hand, it felt as if was only seconds ago she had last heard it, when it was actually years ago. Ten years, to be exact. 120 Months…520 Weeks…3,650 Days…85,440 Hours…

`I'll see you tonight love'

She reflexively put her hand to her lips, where he had once kissed her every morning. At exactly the same spot where she was standing now. A goodbye peck, it wasn't significant then, just one of thousands they shared when they left each other's company, even for a while. But now, she realized what she had taken for granted. She took in the changes at the house, which was home…was…a long time ago…

To be honest, it hadn't changed much, unless you counted the overgrown garden and some shattered windows the signature Welsh storms had left behind. The deep red walls were still the same. She remembered the day they had cast the protective charm on the stone front wall of the house to keep it from getting weathered. Looking around, she noticed the strewn tail of a broomstick peeping from underneath the ruthless wrath of the garden. It was charmed to look like a tryke if a muggle saw it.

She closed her eyes and she could almost see him running to the house as she stood at the doorstep, a package in his hands. Behind him, his father smiled at their son.

`Look what I got from Dad!'

Almost see it…

Taking some tentative steps towards the manor, she finally arrived at the infamous doorstep. The old and battered welcome mat was still in place; however the original gold and crimson colors had faded into a matty grey due to the callous wrath of time. Her fingers trembled heavily as they approached the gold handle. It was embossed with four lion heads; the eyes of the creatures studded with rubies, whose glint was now lost under years of accumulated dust. It was a priceless relic they had chosen to restore, she remembered…The moment she touched it, she felt another memory attacked her subconscious.

She was a vision in white; they were going to enter the house for the first time upon its completion, his marriage gift to her.

`You're supposed to carry me over the threshold!'

The door creaked as it opened. As she stepped inside, her breath got caught in her windpipe as she saw the first thing upon her entry. To the left of the entrance hung a huge photograph. That was the vision of perfection. It was taken three years after their son was born. The couple was sitting on grass in their backyard. Snuggled closely together, they shared a small child between them. The adolescent was a younger facsimile to his father, who was laughing back at the photograph. The only visual difference was the slightly lighter brown hair, inherited from his mother; mind you it was still as messy as ever as well retaining some of the bushiness. The last person in the photograph was looking back into the photograph with a dreamy expression on her face. If one would look carefully, one would see one of the man's arms snaking around his wife and his hand resting on an almost indiscernible bulge on her stomach. As the door shut close behind her, she took a step bringing the object of interest in close vicinity. Her hand reached out, her fingers felt the cold surface of glass underneath her.

As soon as her fingers touched the glass, she gasped and the hand flew back. It was too real, the fact that the two most important people in her life were gone, dead. As her arm made its way back to her side, the woman turned to the rest of the abode. The walls were painted a deep, forest green.

`We have to paint the walls in the hall green. It's my favorite.' The man in front of her smirked.

`That wouldn't have to do anything with my eyes, would it love?' he asked.

She smiled, `Oh, it has everything to do with your eyes.' After that neither said anything else as they lost themselves to passion right on the very same wall.

She touched the exact same spot where they had made love over 18 years ago and a small smile graced her somber look. She soon arrived in the kitchen. It was exactly the same as she had left it years ago. The table was set for a brunch-style meal for three. The minute remains of a dinner remained in the pan on the stove. The wax of the candle on the walls melted to the holder.

Harry and James were sitting at the table, when she growled. The two Potter men looked in concern at their favorite woman in the world. “What's wrong mommy?” James asked in his small voice.

“We're out of sausages” she pouted. The boys looked at each other and Harry laughed. He stood up from his spot and went over to her. “Calm down love.” He soothed, “James and I will just run to the shop and get some.” And with that, he gave her a kiss and left the house with their son…forever…

“Why Harry?” she sobbed back in the present. “Why didn't you just conjure up some breakfast? Why did I have to cook sausages that day?” She rested her hands on the table, breathing coming in gasps; she took one look at the plate before her and anger flared inside of her. A second later, the poor plate found itself broken; resting on the floor ten feet away from the woman whose heart was suffering the same condition as it.

.

As she calmed down once again, she turned to face the flight of stairs just outside the kitchen. Hand clutching the rails tightly, she climbed the set of stairs. Dozens of photographs decorated the wall to the left and the pain in her chest was growing by the second. Harry and her playing with James, a newborn James, several pictures of the trio at Hogwarts…

At the top of the stairs, she looked around trying to find her bearings. Ghost-like she continued on until she came to a door. Opening it apprehensively, she stared at the mess inside--a toy Firebolt in one corner; a television with a playstation in another. Muggle as well as magical amenities were common in the Potter household. Several books were organized in the bookcase beside the bed.

“JAMES! Clean up your room!” she had shrieked.

Now she felt pathetic for yelling at the innocent soul. Collapsing at her knees, she crawled to the bed and hugged the sheets to her, her son's essence mixed with ten years of accumulated atmosphere. Sobbing wildly, she laid the side of her head against the comforter, looking out into the star-studded sky. She could see the villagers celebrating their favorite holiday out in the distance. Closing her eyes and feeling awfully comfortable all of a sudden, she drifted off to sleep.

“You have been sentenced ten years in Azkaban for attempting murder on a fellow human being. You will be placed in St. Mungo's until your baby has been born however, and then you shall resume your punishment.” Wood met wood as the Chief-Warlock of Wizengamot announced the most controversial decision in the history of the organization. Uproar had been caused in the wizarding world after that session but people had forgotten soon.

“I'm sorry Mrs. Potter but after yesterday's fall, you lost your baby.”

“NO! NO! NO!!!!!” she screamed as she woke up, arm outstretched to the window. The village was quiet and a magical clock on the wall showed the time as 1:00 AM. Getting up softly, she exited the room full of memories of her child.

Stopping outside the next door, she took a deep breath, waiting to face her hardest challenge. She threw the door open. White. Everything was white in that room. The king-sized bed, the sheets, the dresser, the walls and even the door leading to the bathroom.

“What?! You want everything to be white?” Harry had asked looking at her if she was mad, a paintbrush in his hand. She had wanted to decorate their dream-house the muggle way.

“Yes Harry.” She had replied for the thousandth time; then she smiled, “You look so cute when you pout like that!” She had been rewarded with a mind-blowing make-out session for that remark.

On the wall behind the bed, stood a huge muggle photograph of the two of them on their honeymoon. Harry was seated on a rock and she was comfortably snuggled between his legs, her head resting on his chest. Her hands were linked with his and both wore a smile. On her left hand, there were two rings, one a simple wedding band while the other a platinum ring with several diamonds spelling out an `H'.

Looking down at her left hand, she smiled to see the two rings still in place. Hot tears fell on the two rings before she wiped her eyes. `They wouldn't want me to grieve this much.' She thought. Wiping her tears, she sat on the bed, running a hand over the magically clean sheets and reveling in the softness of the bed that she could call hers ten years ago.

After a few minutes, she sat up, a determined look on her face. She made her way down the stairs and out the back door. The November chill surrounded her body as she stepped outside. She closed her eyes and hugged herself as a gust of wind caught her body. She smiled as if the wind was a signal from Harry and James. There were still two things left to do and one of them was right in front of her. Four stones stood in the wet ground, marking the resting spots of four very special people. First she sat in front of the two older ones.

Here lies James Potter 1955-1980

Beloved Father and Husband

Died protecting his family

Lily Evans-Potter 1956-1980

Caring Mother and Wife

Protected her son to the end

Reaching a hand to her mouth, she then placed it on both graves and looked at the ground. “James, Lily. I'm sorry I couldn't protect them. I loved both of them so much and I tried to give my best. Please forgive me.” A re-assuring wind rustled the trees overhead as she finished.

Wiping her tears, she made her way to the other, younger graves.

Harry James Potter 1979-2005

Savior of the World

Kind Friend

Loving Husband and Father

James Matthew Potter 1999-2005

Beloved Son

Soon-to-be brother

“Harry, James. I'm so sorry. I hope the both of you are happy, wherever you are. Know that I will avenge your untimely death, just like you did your parents' Harry. I love you guys.” This time, she kissed both the stones and then stood up; the tears were gone and all the sadness replaced by a desire of revenge. With a deafening bang, she disappeared.

Draco Malfoy was in his lounge, resting on the sofa, quite content with his life. On the walls hung the two Order of Merlin's he had received for aiding the ministry. A merry fire was crackling in the fireplace. A bang sounded and suddenly a woman of around thirty stood in his room. He looked up from his magazine, mildly surprised to see the devastated woman in his house.

“Well what do we have here? Good Evening Granger…oops, or should I say…Potter” He smirked. “You know you have disappointed me. I thought you would be here straight away after your release from Azkaban.”

Pure unadulterated hatred was spewing from Hermione Potter's eyes; hatred for the blonde man in front of her, who was the sole cause of her family's deaths. That day, when Harry and James had gone out to buy the groceries, she had received a telephone from the police stating that Harry and James were found dead on the streets after an SUV had run them over. They said that they had managed to get the number-plate of the accused car from an eye-witness. It read `MLFY 37226'. Hatred for Draco had been oozing out of her veins and instantly she made her way to the Malfoy Manor. She had stunned him instantly and beat him to within an inch of his life. Hermione was about to use the Avada Kedavra when several Aurors had burst in and immediately arrested her. Apparently the house-elf had called the Ministry of Magic. She had been accused of attempted murder and was found guilty; the judge had ignored the overwhelming evidence against Malfoy. His pocket was probably much heavier after that case. Her unborn child was lost in a miscarriage and her whole life had shattered in just a week.

“STUPEFY!” she cried and Malfoy was thrown against the wall, shattering his beloved awards. Blood trickled from his mouth. This time she was the one to smirk. She bent over his fallen body and softly whispered, “Enervate.” Malfoy's eyes opened and she held her wand to his head.

“Do you have any idea…” she began, her voice cracking, “what you did ten years ago?” Draco sneered and she cried, “LEGLIMENS!” Suddenly, using a tricky bit of magic, Draco's mind was filled with her thoughts and memories.

Harry and Hermione were sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, just after the war had ended. “I love you, you know that?” Harry said. Hermione looked up from the crook of his neck and smiled. She nodded and replied, “I love you too.”

“ANY IDEA AT ALL?” Hermione cried.

The whole restaurant was staring. Hermione's quivering hands were covering her mouth. Harry was down on one knee holding out the ring that currently resided on her finger. “Yes.” She whispered softly, “Yes I will marry you.” Falling on her knees, they engaged in a long, passionate kiss as the clients in the restaurant applauded.

“WHAT YOU HAVE COST ME?”

Hermione was in a hospital bed when Harry came in. He was holding the small bundle that was James. She took the baby in her eager arms and Harry sat down on the bed beside her. “I'm so proud of you Mione.” He whispered kissing her softly. Tears of joy streamed down her face. “What do we name him?” he asked smiling.

“I was thinking...maybe James, after your father?” Hermione replied and tears leaked out of Harry's eyes as well. “Really?” he asked. She smiled and confirmed, “Really.”

“MY SON!”

“JAMES! DO NOT RUN DOWN THE STAIRS! THE PRESENTS CAN WAIT!” Hermione screamed as Harry laughed behind her. “Leave him Mione. He's six and it's Christmas” He muttered as he nibbled on her neck. “Happy Christmas by the way.” She turned and brown met green. The two colors of the earth. Leaning into Harry's chest she replied, “Happy Christmas Harry.”

“MY HUSBAND! MY LOVE!”

She was sitting on a bed in St. Mungo's, wearing the pale blue robes. A Healer came in, a stricken expression on his face. “What happened? Is Lily okay?” Hermione asked, “IS MY GIRL OKAY?” she cried.

The Healer closed her eyes and shook her head. “I'm sorry Mrs. Potter but yesterday's fall was too much for the baby.”

“No…no…this can't be happening.” Hermione cried as the healer comforted her.

“MY DAUGHTER WHO WASN'T EVEN BORN! WHAT DID SHE DO TO YOU?! WHAT DID HARRY AND JAMES DO TO YOU?! YOU FUCKING COWARD!” Hermione shouted as the memories stopped. To her intense pleasure, Malfoy looked pale and she could faintly see that the images were replaying in his mind.

Stepping away from the shaken and bloody wizard, she took out a pistol from her robes. Harry had kept it just in case a muggle were to break in the house. Sure, it was never authorized but he had kept it anyway. She pointed the barrel straight at Draco's face. “You know what this is Malfoy?” Hermione asked; her words full of venom. “No, you wouldn't know. After all, you're proud of your magical blood. This thing can cause more pain than the Cruciatus curse if used right and also does the job of an Avada Kedavra.” The fear in his eyes was clearly evident although there was an added feeling mixed with it this time. Guilt.

“You want me to demonstrate?” she asked, spitting on Malfoy's face. Aiming at his leg, she pulled the trigger. A howl of pain streaked through the air and blood spurted across Malfoy's leg. The distinct sound of a broken bone was also heard as Draco rocked side to side clutching his leg.

Hermione made a face of disgust at his reaction and slammed the butt of the revolver across Draco's shoulders. Another broken bone. `Revenge truly is Sweet.' She thought grimly watching Malfoy's agony. But another feeling evoked in her heart. Disgust for herself. She couldn't do this; she couldn't murder someone cold-blooded, no matter how much he had inflicted on her. `This is what separates you from them' Harry's calm voice sounded through her mind.

Finally, as the moral part of her brain took over, she dropped the gun in reach of Malfoy. Taking one last look at the whimpering wizard, she turned to leave the room, feeling free for the first time in ten years.

Outside everything was calm, the tress rustled softly in the wind. The village across the Manor was asleep. Then, for the second time in the evening, a bullet shot rang out through the air.

The next day, the wizarding population woke up to a shocking headline:

DRACO MALFOY FOUND DEAD IN HIS LOUNGE: SUICIDE OR MURDER?

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