Hey Everyone! Wow, I can't believe I'm posting something….am I even allowed to? It hasn't been MONTHS AND MONTHS since my last post for PVGR (like only last month I think or something) so maybe I should wait awhile…haha. No, this obviously isn't a new PVGR chapter, but it's still something AWESOME! Kidding. I've never read anything like this before, and so naturally, I had to write it. I was cruising in my car, listening to Creed the other day, and this story popped into my head. I've had it on my mind for a few weeks now, and decided there was no time like 2 in the AM to finish it! Well, I hope you enjoy it…and please, read with an open-ish mind!!! This will be a 2-shot. The next chapter will not be very lengthy at all. Thanks!
By the way, yeah, like I said, I did just update The Potter Vs. Granger Rivalry not too long ago-like seriously, it hasn't been that long so if you are following that, DEFINITELY check into it. I haven't gotten much of a response from it, so either a.) Not too many know about it/or did not decide to review it, or b.) I've lost my touch as an author, I suck, and should just shrivel up and die……perhaps I should to a heads-or-tails kind of thing….? Ha. Well, ENJOY!!!
My Own Prison
A court is in session
A verdict is in
No appeal on the docket today
Just my own sin
The walls are cold and pale
The cage made of steel
Screams fill the room
Alone I drop and kneel
Silence now the sound
My breath the only motion around
Demons cluttering around
My face showing no emotion
Shackled by my sentence
Expecting no return
Here there is no penance
My skin begins to burn
"My Own Prison" CREED
When I was a teenager, I volunteered at an art class for children over the summer and we made plaques with our handprint and an animal we felt presented us. A bull, for strength and warning. A zebra for alertness and being family-oriented. I chose the steer skull: silent testimony. I wasn't sure why I chose it, but when I read that, I got this gut feeling. I had the desire for such words to describe me and vowed to one day illustrate it. The plaque hung on my wall for years, and the meaning behind the painted steer skull slipped my mind.
Now, as I face my peers and the Wizengambot, the highest court of the Wizarding law in Britain in a bare room with a tall ceiling and cement floor, the steer skull and its meaning slowly comes back to me.
Most despise me for it. No one really understands-not that I've bothered to explain myself. I haven't. I'm not giving a silent testimony because I told myself I would do it someday. No, that has nothing to do with it. I'm doing it out of dignity, respect, pride, loyalty…so many other things. Even love. But not for myself. For him.
I take back saying no one really understands. He understood. He was the only one who would, who could.
The chamber is silent. It has been silent ever since I made my way in here minutes ago. I was escorted by two wizards, as if I was going to try to run away. They placed me in a cold, metal chair in the middle of the room, and once I sat, chains sprung to life with noisy rattles and bound themselves around my numb body. They were secured so tight it was painful. But I still held my head up and gave no inclination I was in any discomfort at all. I stared hard straightforward, at no one in particular. My gaze never wavered. I felt hundreds of pairs of eyes on my, glaring full of hate and loathing. Despite my hard stare and how I refused to give them the satisfaction of having my eyes roam over their faces foolishly, I did see many familiar faces as I walked in. I calculated who they were in mere nano-seconds. That's what the War did to you. You didn't have time to assess a situation in even a timely manner. You had a split second to evaluate and decide who in the room was on your side, and who wasn't. Right now, I was the lone warrior. No one was on my side.
A voice suddenly rings out from the crowd in a skin-crawling shriek. "YOU MURDERER!"
My gaze remained strong and for a moment, I refuse to look at the source of the noise. I recognized the voice immediately. Another trade the War taught you. No matter how alike two people sounded, deciphering their identity from just a few words was a must. Finally, I lift my gaze to the culprit, none other than Ginny Weasley, with Ron right beside her. Her body is positively shaking and sobs escape her throat in loud cries. Weak. She never could mask herself very well. Always had her whole person on her sleeve, not just her heart. I'm surprised she even made it through the War. She sees me looking at her and shrieks once again. "YOU KILLED HIM YOU MUDBLOOD MURDERER!!!"
Her cold words cut through the air, trying to hurt me. But they don't sting. Her words held no lie, not even the Mudblood part. I knew she only used that word get at me, and really she had nothing against Muggle-borns. But her words can't hurt me.
By this time, the whole lot in front of me broke out in loud murmurs. Finally, the Chief Warlock waves his wand and it emits a loud bang, silencing everyone. The trial is in session.
"Hermione Granger, you have been brought forth in front of the Wizengambot and your peers under the charges of murdering Harry Potter. Do you understand the strict nature of the consequences of these charges? His voice boomed as he glared at me.
I stare back and say nothing.
Harry Potter's possible death during the War was not far from everyone's minds. But once he survived and Voldemort was slain, no one would even dream the biggest celebrity in Wizarding history would face death anytime soon. And he could certainly not be met with it as a result of his own lovely wife.
"Hermione Granger," The Chief Warlock began again, angrier this time, "I asked you if you understood the nature of the consequences of the charges held against you. Answer the question!"
Once again, I say nothing. I watch as the members of the high court exchange worried glances.
More obscenities were yelled in my direction from my peers during this small silence, but still, I held my head up high. Hatred was burning within for the people before me. And that's where it stayed-within. They wanted to see me hate them. See me hate myself. They wanted to see me show my feelings and break down. They wanted me to shout how sorry I was so they could laugh at my foolishness and sentence me anyway. But they would not see any remorse on my part. No, I would not cave. I was giving my silent testimony. For him.
"Miss Granger," the Chief Warlock addressed me again, "You have been charged for the murder of one Harry Potter. Do you deny these charges? Or do you plead guilty?"
I let my eyes wander over the crowd now, taking them all in. Old school mates I used to call friends glared at me with distaste. Many people were in tears. Co-workers from the Ministry also looked at me with contempt in their eyes. Ginny was still sobbing. Ron. I stared at Ron, but he refused to look at me. Poor Ron. He would never understand. I stole the life of his best friend. Molly. She was sitting on the other side of Ginny, tear-stricken. Harry was like a son to her. She had always wished for Harry to choose Ginny as his love. Always. When she found out Harry and Hermione had been together, Hermione could still remember the sadness in her eyes she had seen. Maybe she had been the only one to see it.
My parents. My mother had tears sliding quietly down her cheeks while my father's strong arms held onto her. A pang of guilt shot through me. Being the parents of a "murderer" must be difficult.
My eyes met Dumbledore's. The twinkle in his eyes was gone. Maybe he would understand. Maybe he wouldn't.
"Miss Granger, do you deny the charges held against you?" I was asked again.
I looked at the Chief Warlock, a pudgy man with graying hair in deep plum robes. "No," I say, my face showing no emotion.
"So I am correct in saying that you plead guilty for the murder of Harry Potter?" He asked, leaning forward.
The entire room was silent, waiting on my answer.
I look up at all the people condemning me. Murder? There was no malice. No brutality. But she did take his life unlawfully. However, no matter how she looked at it, she couldn't call what she had done murder. It was salvation if anything.
"I premeditatedly ended his life."
There was a sharp intake of breath from most of the room at my admission.
"Once again, so I am correct in saying you are pleading guilty in the murder of Harry Potter?" The man asked again, standing up this time.
"I will plead guilty to ending his life. But I don't see it as murder."
The man's face had turned a bright red at this moment. "You killed him, Miss Granger! You killed your husband in cold blood! THAT IS MURDER" He roared, and I could see his knuckles turning white from his grip on the edge of the table.
I began to repeat what I had just admitted to. "I will plead guilty to ending his life. But I don't see-"
He interrupted me with another roar. "What do you think ending his life means?!"
I remained silent. Once again, they wouldn't understand. And I would never do that to Harry's memory.
The Chief Warlock calmed himself and took his seat again. He put on his square spectacles and began to rummage through papers in front of him, though I knew it was just a façade so he could regain his composure.
"Miss Granger, unless you have a withstanding defense, you are being charged for the murder of Harry Potter. Do you have a defense?" He asked smoothly, taking his glasses off to look at me intently.
Once again, the whole chamber went silent. This is what they were here for. Me being accused for the murder of Harry had been splashed all over the news. Everyone already knew I was guilty. No one knew my reasoning. And they were dying to know.
"I have no defense." I lied unblinkingly. I picked my parents out from the crowd. My mother was crying desperately and my father was clutching her. I'm sorry! I wanted to cry to them, but remained silent.
No one could understand why I killed Harry. To them, the War was over. The streets were safe. Most of the remaining Death Eaters were captured. However, to me, to us, the War waged forever-on in our home.
Harry was a tortured soul. Yet, as "caring" as the Wizarding World was, no one ever bothered to really ask or care about his well-being. No one took the time to look passed his charade of a smile and read his eyes.
Except me.
If Harry was a tortured soul living in a tortured world, then I may as well have been the atmosphere surrounding him, shielding him from the rest of the universe.
The War had really taken its toll on him. Harry did not harvest the hate for Evil that it took to be the Hero he was forced to become. He was too soft. Too innocent. He had to watch so many friends and members of the Order die at his side. By the time Voldemort was destroyed, so was most of Harry.
Yet, no one knew. No one could hear his suicidal thoughts. No one could see just how much the War had affected him. He won. He should live happily ever after.
We deserved it. Or so one would think.
Harry never could look at it that way. Instead, he always saw it as him taking people's lives. If someone on our side died, we may as well have killed them because we did not save them. If someone against us died, then he would eventually cry in remorse for taking someone's life-he never wanted such blood on his hands. Never asked for it. He always said it was not his duty to decide whether or not someone deserved to die, despite their sins. His words never made much since to me, yet really, I did see what he meant.
I always tried to convince him otherwise. I told him the Death Eaters and Voldemort all deserved to die. Unlike him, I was hardened by the War. I could kill without a second thought. Maybe that's why I found it so easy to take his life. I doubt it though.
I think it's because I understood. I knew what he had to go through. During the War, I created my own form of Legilmency. Ordinarily, the person whose mind is penetrated is aware of the penetration to some level-whether they are conscious or unconscious. If they are unconscious, it may seem as if it is a dream. If they are conscious, then they can obviously feel the attack and defend their mind using Occlumency. I mastered the art of using Legilmency without making the attackee aware of my antics. It because very useful in the War as it let us know who really was on our side.
Prying into someone's mind is a very powerful weapon. You can find out just about anything and really get to see exactly who a person is. Their inner-most thoughts and desires. Their secrets. Their regrets.
Part of Harry had always been a mystery to me. I needed to solve that mystery. I couldn't help it. It was tearing him apart.
So I tapped into his mind. I would spend hours just listening to his thoughts. Some thoughts embarrassed me. Some thrilled me. Some made me sad. Some caused a giggle. Most terrified me. He couldn't let go. I was ready to move on with life. We got married. Discussed children. A future.
He was still rutted in the past, and his mind made it clear he help no hope for a future. Even in his secret thoughts, he begged for death.
I answered his silent prayers. I knew there was no amount of time, or therapy, or love that could ever make Harry Potter whole again.
I spent months debating my options. Near the end, it seemed that's all he was ever saying in his thoughts. Death. Suicide. Remorse. Trauma. It was always there, hanging over him like a cloud. He could fake happiness for awhile. He would attend parties and galas and hang out with friends-and everyone was none the wiser. But I would always catch it. From across the room, our eyes would meet and I would see that tortured look. That look that screamed he needed to get away. Now. And he needed me.
So I would stop in the middle of conversation with even the Minister of Magic and run to his side, inconspicuously escorting him somewhere private so he could let it out, whatever emotion it was the time, whether it be anger, regret, remorse, sadness…they all made their way to him.
He couldn't show the Wizarding World t his weak side. No. They were ready to move on. He understood that. He needed to show that he was rebuilding his life as well. He needed to show hope so the rest would follow suit. No one could see him fall apart. Except me.
I remember when I first realized we were not going to have a future together. When I gave in to Fate. When I realized our marriage was not a new beginning, but rather, just another façade for the Wizarding World. Yes, he loved me. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to be my husband and have children and build a life together.
But he couldn't. He couldn't forgive himself. Maybe he couldn't forgive me either. Or anyone else. For kilillng. For not saving those on our side who died.
Like I said, I only gave him what he wanted. What he needed. He couldn't be happy. There was no way. And he was too selfish to ever commit suicide. He couldn't leave the world and break down in one act the lives everyone had tried to put together. He needed someone strong enough to do it for him. Someone who loved him enough to let him go and set him free.
He never told me this verbally of course. But he knew I knew what he was thinking. And he knew what I was planning.
I remember everything about that day. I planned it all out perfectly, though honestly, there wasn't much planning. I couldn't get too elaborate-I was plotting the death of not only my husband, but my soul-mate, my best friend. No, it needed to be quick and easy.
Poison was the best option. It was a Monday. We spent a great weekend together. I knew it was the last I would ever have with him. It had been so great, that he even called in to work on Monday and asked for the day off. He knew it was his last day. We made the most of it. I even let him take me for a ride on his Firebolt. Poisoning him was easy. I simply put a few drops in our food. I had an antidote for myself. I chose to poison myself as well. If my antidote worked, then I was meant to live another day and suffer for my actions. If it didn't, then I got what was coming to me. I made it off pure memory, as if to tempt Fate. We ate in silence for the most part, then curled up on the couch to watch a movie. An odd thing to do when you know it is your last night with someone forever, just to sit there and watch a movie. You would think you would talk about anything and everything. Confessions and "I love you's" and love making would fill the evening. But no. We watched a movie and just enjoyed each other's presence.
The poison would kick in once we fell asleep. We hugged each other tightly for hours it felt like that night before he finally drifted off to sleep. I watched him all night. I had a vile that contained the antidote to the poison stashed away for me to drink. After only ten minutes of his sleeping, I took a swig of the antidote then smashed the vile on the bathroom sink, cutting my hand. I knew that as long as I had it left, I would use it on him. Finally, I fell asleep in the wee hours of the morning.
My consequence for killing Harry was waking up the next morning. When I woke, rays of sunshine tried to fight their way into our bedroom through the dark blinds and curtains. As I stretched and glanced over beside me, the night before rushed back to mind. I didn't panic. I didn't do anything. I was emotionless. I was gripped by a fear I had never experienced. I was too scared to try to wake him. I was afraid of not being able to. Finally, I gently allowed a hand to stray down and slowly graze his cheek. I bent down and kissed him on the mouth. I held if for a few seconds before drawing back. I placed my head on his bare chest. No heartbeat. A lone tear slid down my cheek. A tear of remorse. Of relief. Of fear. Of sadness. I never knew a tear could hold so much emotion. I stood dizzily and donned on my house coat so I could make a trip to the kitchen for a glass of water. I found a piece of paper in the pocket. I unfolded it and found that it was a note from my beloved. In Harry's untidy scrawl, was the message: Thank you. I always knew you would be my Savoir. P.S. You aren't the only one who knows a special branch of Legilmency. For a second, I was puzzled. Then I realized he didn't even sign it or tell me he loved me. But I already knew he did. And with us, words weren't always needed. I smiled. Closure. For the rest of the day, I only laid there clutching him. Feeling despair and nothing else. My regret was gone. I knew I did the right thing.
The next morning, I mechanically got up and dressed myself as well as Harry. I called a funeral service and booked a funeral. I called the Dursleys first. I knew no one else would call them, and once I turned myself in, I would not be able to handle anything else. I did this all without emotion. Finally, I was ready. I talked to Harry's lifeless body. I confessed every sin I could think of. I expressed my guilt. I even told him I was pregnant with is child. I did what most would have done instead of watching a movie. I looked through albums. I allowed myself to mourn. I knew this was the only time I would allow it. I would not be able to go to his funeral. I won't be able to say good-bye then. So I say it now. No regrets.
I placed his body in the living room before Apparating to the Ministry. I turned myself in. I remember the looks I received when I confessed to killing Harry Potter. At first they thought it was a joke until I took them to my home.
Now, all this has landed me here. In front of the Wizengambot. Stating I have no defense. But I do. I have one. But I won't tarnish his memory. I will take whatever punishment they give me as long as it means his memory will never reflect to anyone his weakness. He hated showing that. Except to me. So with me it will stay.
I cry out to God
Seeking only His decision
Gabriel standing confirms
I've created my own prison
"My Own Prison" CREED
So, what did you think?! PLEASE review!!! Like I said, there should be one more chapter. It will deal mainly with Hermione and Harry's child and the aftermath of Hermione's trial. It should be up super soon!
Thanks for reading!
*~Archie~*
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