A Hero's Penance

Little_miss_potter

Rating: R
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 14/06/2008
Last Updated: 14/06/2008
Status: in_progress

AU. He became:The Boy Who Brought Desolation. She became: The outsider. He ended up in Azkaban. She ended up being suffocated by the Weasleys. Blamed for being a savior -Harry Potter’s triumph was his greatest downfall. A Hero must pay the penance for being Voldemort’s target. No one is willing to fight for justice except for the outsider witch- his lover, unheard and ignored, she vows to regain the lost hope and to raise a new order. HR POV

Chapters

1. Injustice

1. Injustice

A new Fic, I had this plot in my mind for a while and I just can’t wait any longer, it has to be written. I’ve never really explored the depths of 1st person, so I hope I did it some justice. This is a chaptered story, not just a one-shot. Hope you have a fun time reading, I will have a chap of IET up soon.

A Hero's Penance

Chapter One: Injustice

“Sentenced…”

My breath hitches and we all wait with baited breath, in an instant, it could all be over.

“…to life in Azkaban.” the judge calls, slamming his gable onto the mahogany desk. The cheers erupt from the crowd, a sentence well deserved in their tortured minds.

I scream at the injustice. Not one of them is listening. Someone is restraining me and pulling me from my stance in the spectators’ benches. The judge watches me, a ghost of a smile lining his thin lips.

He’s enjoying this.

What has the world come to?

I watch as he is plucked without restraint from the chains he has been trapped in, left to be observed like an animal in a zoo. His limp form is being dragged through the jeering crowd, they’re cheering at his sentence, cheering as if they’ve never heard better news. This is their prize, for the darkness they have suffered. This is his punishment for ridding the wizarding world of its most notorious mass murderer.

“He’s a saviour!” I scream, but my voice is being interrupted by the drowning dim of the courtroom. Please! Why is no one listening? I’m still being restrained. My feet stiffen and I clamp my shoes onto the floor of the room.

“Let.Me.Go!” I try to pull away, thrashing as powerfully as possible, but my efforts go to waste, my restraint is too overwhelming and I’m weak from the shock.

This can’t be happening.

Everyone’s being taken for a fool. Why can’t they see that?

He’s not even trying to convince the Wizenmagot of his innocence, he lets the brutal animals carry him to his fate. He’s given up.

“This is injustice! He saved you, he saved you all!”

A gruff voice penetrates my hearing and my cries for his defense stop momentarily.

“Hermione, he deserves this. Stop fighting for him, he will never be forgiven for what he has done.”

I snap my head round in an instant. Have I heard correctly? I’m sure I’m wearing a look of astonishment on my face, I truly hope I am.

“What?” the voice leaves my throat in a hiss, an angered question that demands a reasonable explanation.

“He deserves this Hermione. He is the cause for this whole mess, and you know it.”

I stare at Ron Weasley, stricken that he could respond with such a statement about his best friend. Molly Weasley sidles over to join the conversation, placing a hand atop my shoulder, her face holding the same solemnity as the day of her family’s multiple funerals.

“You’re causing quite a commotion dear; this is for the betterment of the wizarding world. Now, come back to The Burrow for a bit and we can celebrate for the rest of the evening.”

Is she serious?

“Celebrate?!” I scream, “you think I want to celebrate?!” People turn to stare, their cold eyes trying to stem my rant- I won’t give them the satisfaction.

“He’s innocent and he saved this ungrateful world! You’re all being fooled, for Merlin’s sake! We have death eaters on the Wizenmagot!” I whisper the term used for Tom Riddle’s followers, refusing to use Riddle’s self proclaimed pseudonym.

“Hermione, they deserve a clean slate. They’ve already promised to reform the ministry and-”

“They killed your family! They’re the one’s who deserved to be sentenced- every single person in this courtroom has been affected by the likes of them in one way or another! How could you be so obtuse?!”

Her face etches with concern, a worriment for my sanity I guess.

“Now Hermione, that is out of line. It is his fault that we suffered greatly.” she nods a head towards his figure, still being dragged through the leering spectators.

Its not. Its not. Its not! My mind screams, a mantra that just won’t vanish in my abyss of thoughts.

I ignore the lecture Molly is continuing, vacantly watching her lips move with the wave of insults I know she has been keeping pent up inside. Ron nods idly at her words, his strong arms holding me from running to him .

I’m being held prisoner.

I feel like I’m the one who has been sentenced.

His captors lead him closer, closer and closer. Ron’s arms tighten as he advances down the aisle and it begins to hurt. It’s cutting off my oxygen. I can’t scream.

Clawing and scratching as his arm I try to free myself, kicking and flailing my arms in a desperate attempt to rid of his imprisoning embrace.

A kick to the groin and I’m free.

Scrambling through the applauding crowd I ignore the shouts of protest, proclaiming that I should be restrained.

See me!

I need him to look up.

Look at me!

I beg him to look up in my mind, to meet my eyes with his familiar and comforting gaze.

“Harry!” I bellow, disregarding the fact that people were now trying to trip me on my way to his parade.

“Harry!” I cry persistently, my shins begin to sting with the several blows that are aimed towards me but I continue to race along the crowded benches.

He looks so defeated, so humiliated.

This may be the last time that I ever see him.

Hopefully, I can free him.

But just in case, I need recognition from him, I need to see his face.

He is so close. His escorts bring him along the aisle and I can almost reach for him, my hand careening for his touch. Harry stays lifeless, supported by his captors. Its then that the uproar begins.

His head lifts to meet mine and time stops still for that split second. He gives me what I crave- his piercing gaze. The crowd begins to scream louder and I am stumped for a second, it’s then that I realise that he is trying to break his restraint. His emerald gaze still focussing on mine.

He’s trying to reach me.

He fights, aims blows at his assailants and breaks free.

My heart lurches and I help him, sprinting into his embrace. My head rests comfortably on his shoulder, his arms protecting me from the fervent shouts of injustice.

People listen this time, screaming for someone to do something about our irrational behaviour.

His relieved sigh reaches my eardrums and I smile, despite the uproar we have created. I try to consieve an escape plan in my mind.

Apparation. Void. The Wizenmagot has the strongest wards.

Portkey. Void. I should have prepared better.

Broom. Void. I don’t even own one.

He holds onto me, tight, but not painfully so.

“Look after her.” he whispers in a delicate tone, a tone that sends me into an innumerable amount of tears.

“I will,” my whisper for his ears only, deafened by the ever increasing roars from the jury and spectators.

He drops his head, his lips meeting mine in a desperate goodbye. The noise is brought to a standstill, the shock of our secret love silencing them still. Our kiss is one of desperation and determination, I never want to let go.

“SOMEONE STOP THIS NONSENSE!” The vague cry registers in the back of my mind, but my current preoccupation is the man before me. The man who I had so helplessly fallen in love with. The man I am going to lose.

“I love you, I love you, I love you.” I whisper frantically, assuring him of my alliance and my love. His trembling hands cup my face, and I instantly know he’s scared- it scares me.

“I lo-” a sudden jolt hinders his response and I’m being dragged from his hold.

Tell me!

Tell me you love me!

My mind screeches for his response, yet it never comes.

A loud bellow of a doubled stupefies sounds, and I fall backwards. Whether it was the blow to the head from the wooden bench, or the overly powerful stupefy, my last thought slips to Harry.

------------------------------

Silence.

I’m on my back, a soft pillow supporting my head. It takes me a while to open my eyes, I’ve momentarily lost the ability to move my muscles- eyes included.

When I do open my eyes, it’s not the Wizenmagot’s detainment chambers that I was sure of being thrown into.

It’s The Burrow.

It’s not a dream- he’s gone.

I prop myself up feebly, unable to fully use my muscles to their advantage. My head pounds from the blow I took from the spectator’s bench, tenderly reaching towards my head, a small gasp escapes my lips involuntarily.

Then comes a shriek.

“She’s awake!”

I lay still, Ginny returns with Molly hot on her heel, and she begins rushing through diagnostic spells, tending to my head, whilst prodding me here there and everywhere.

Her previous declaration of hatred towards Harry still has me on edge and I just want to leave- except I have nowhere to go, no one to see.

“Hermione, there’s something odd about you and I just can’t put my finger on It.” she tells me confusedly.

Is it the fact that I want to throw you to the garden gnomes?

No.

I know what it is, and if she can’t figure it out- it’s of no importance to her.

“I’m fine.” I reply lackadaisically, it doesn’t’t take much effort to lie to Molly Weasley, especially when you’ve had to for the past year or so.

“Ok. Just don’t strain yourself. We’re having a little fire whisky to celebrate the sentence- coming?”

She has to be kidding.

Had I not proved my alliance just a mere few hours ago?

Her eyes bore into mine, she’s trying to make me uncomfortable, trying to identify my reaction towards her ill pointed comment.

I still feel hollow.

She tries to place a hand on my cheek, but I shrug away in defiance. I want her to leave me untouched…I want to be left untouchable- they have to know how lost I feel. I’ve lost my best friend and my only ally, my solidarity and my lover.

This is injustice above all.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, dear.”

I hardly acknowledge her statement and watch her leave. She has that certain ‘old’ hunch to her shoulders now, brought on by the deaths of three of the Weasley’s I believe. She blames it not only on Tom, but on Harry as well, like most of the wizarding population- their grief has been twisted by the ‘reformed ministry’ consisting of a very few original ministry workers.

I still can’t grasp the fact that the death eaters are trusted after their murderous crusades and manhunts. I suppose though, that one person’s grief can alter perspectives.

I can’t stand being immobile, especially with these feelings pent up inside. I need air.

I make my way to the garden, finding solace in the unkempt grass. It’s long enough for me to be able to hide from prying eyes. The view to the village of Ottery St. Catchpole is one of devastation, businesses deserted along with the various houses.

To think that Harry is the one blamed for this mess is terrible.

This isn’t over.

I’ll be the one to defy them all.

I will stand up to the bigots.

I will free The Boy Who Brought Desolation.