I killed a man today

Iron Man

Rating: R
Genres: Drama, Suspense
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 7
Published: 03/04/2010
Last Updated: 03/04/2010
Status: completed

I killed a man today, and I realized that it doesn't bother me that much.

Chapters

1. I killed a Man Today

1. I killed a Man Today

Disclaimer: Don’t own, wish I did though.

First off, this has not been proofed. My beta is extremely busy with life, so I apologize if the errors are unbearable.

Secondly, this is just something that hit me the other day. It is kind of dark, or better said Harry is kind of dark in it. Themes are a little adult too. Told in Harry’s POV

Hope you enjoy.

I killed a man today.

I have never taken a life but once in my twenty five years of existence. It is truly a remarkable thing. To take a life that is. I didn’t honestly think that I had it in me. To say that I actually killed the darkest wizard of all time would only be half true. In all honesty, he was impaled upon by his own sword. Sure, I deflected the sword, but I did not initiate the attack.

This attack however, I did initiate.

It is often a curious thing to think about, how just the right circumstances can make for the most terrible things to occur. A wand slipping out of a pocket and rolling out of reach as you are brutally knocked to the ground. A well placed punch to the face sending your mind into the bowels of pain and dizziness. A child’s screams of fear then pain as she herself is assaulted as she tries to help her mother from her attacker.

My wife is strong willed, determined, brilliant beyond all reason and a very good duelist. In short, I know she can take care of herself. I feel like it is my job to do that, but she doesn’t let me do it very often. Because I love her, I do it her way. I’m not complaining. I like to protect people, it’s what I do. However, I must admit that if I had a wife that needed constant looking after, I would probably be agitated to say the least.

My daughter, age four, is a mirror image of my wife, with one exception. She has black bushy hair instead of brown. In mannerisms and personality, she is again, mostly my wife. She has my love of flying. That is it from me. Yet, I care not. I love her to death, and would die to keep her from ever feeling one ounce of pain.

My girls are my life, and I never knew the extent a father/husband would go to protect the ones closest to him. I learned something about myself today. I will kill to keep them from ever being harmed. Physically that is. I might break your nose if you call my wife ugly, but I will not put you six feet under.

This day will forever be ingrained in my memory. My little girl was getting restless waiting for our dinner to finish up. My wife decided to take her for a stroll around the pond in the park mere meters from our back yard. I was left to finish dinner, a task I didn’t mind. I waved them off, giving my daughter a big kiss and one to my wife as well. She smiled into the kiss I remember. God I love her.

I watched as they left out of the sliding door on the back of house before I returned to the kitchen. The base of the sun was near the horizon line. The beautiful orange color that comes in the evening was beginning to show.

I puttered around kitchen for the next twenty minutes before I began to put the finishing touches on the dish I was preparing. I had made my way to the cupboard afterward, and pulled out plates and silverware. Three plates stacked in my hand with silverware on top fell to the floor as I heard my daughter scream DADDY in sheer, unadulterated terror.

Now some people call it a sixth sense, others think that the bond that my wife and I have gives us some sort of telepathic connection to each other. I can’t explain it, but at any given time of the day I could tell you where my wife was. Up until this day it only bothered me slightly. Yet it only bothered me in the sense that it was such an odd thing. Did anyone else have this with their spouse? Never again though would that connection and bother be in the same sentence.

I shut my eyes and focused for a mere second on my wife and instantly knew she was by the grand oak tree on the far end of the pond from our house. I spun on the spot and apparated a few feet from my wife who was on her back struggling beneath a black cloaked man who was straddling her. A few strips of clothing were scattered about, and I noticed my wife’s wand mere centimeters out of her reach. My daughter was off the paved walkway, sitting in the grass nursing a broken arm. Her eyes were wide with fear, but also relief at my arrival. The anger in me intensified tenfold. Voldemort himself had never pushed me to these heights of aggression before.

The information I gathered upon arrival was obtained in mere nanoseconds. As I quickly closed the distance between my arrival point, and my wife’s assailant, I heard her scream. The man readied a fist to strike at her as he held both her hands with his other. I grabbed his right arm with my left hand as his fist had reached its maximum distance from its intended contact point and yanked him off my wife. As I pulled him up and past me, I landed a punch with my right fist dead center on his face. He stumbled and lost his balance. However, I did not release my pincer like grip on his arm. I shoved him into the giant oak tree and launched several more punches into his abdomen and ribs. On the sixth one, blood shot out of his mouth and peppered my face. I didn’t care in the least. He was struggling to breathe now. I returned my attention to his face and made several quick contacts to his nose, left check and left eye. After that, I let completely loose and just swung as hard as I could. I connected with his head multiple times, and enjoyed watching as it bounced off the large tree that I had him pinned up against.

I continued to swing until a hand grabbed my arm and prevented me from continuing my assault. I jerked my head to the right to see an older man with soft friendly features staring back at me. He said to ‘let him go’ and that I ‘should check on my wife’.

I was so lost. In my anger induced revenge, I didn’t realise that a few good punches would have sufficed. I should have returned to my wife and daughter ages ago. However, I let my anger dictate my actions. I could tell the man acknowledged my mortified look.

I immediately released my wife’s attacker, not waiting to watch as he fell to the ground in a heap, and raced over to my wife who was still prone and knelt down beside her. She was breathing in ragged breaths and tears were streaming down her bruised face, trailing past her split lip. He blouse was ripped open, baring her bra covered breasts. The button on her jeans was gone, the zipper was down, and her knickers were visible. I ignored the anger that again bubbled up inside of me.

She didn’t acknowledge me right away. I called her name softly and she jerked her head in my direction. She looked at me with fear in her eyes at first. I I touched her face as I told her that I was here and she was safe. The fear remained in her eyes as she croaked out the name of our daughter. I quickly stood up, bound the couple of steps to my daughter, who was slipping into shock, picked her up and returned to my wife’s side. My wife instantly sat up and pulled my daughter into her embrace but released her quickly when my daughter cried out in pain. My wife looked at her arm and gasped as she realised it was broken. I stood up and helped my wife to her feet. I handed her my cloak so she could cover herself, then removed my belt so she could keep her jeans held up. The need to get to the wizarding hospital was the next thought on my mind.

I glanced behind me to see the older man, hunched over my wife’s assailant, staring back at me. He said he was a squib, and that was all I needed to hear. I apparated my wife and daughter to the wizarding hospital, and was surprised to see that my daughter was still conscious in my arms. As pathetic as it was, a swell of pride rose up inside my chest. She had her dad’s bravery. Then I remembered that my wife is braver than I and the swell died.

I made my way up to the receptionist’s desk with my daughter cradled in my arms and explained that she had a broken arm. Once the medi-witch realised who I was, she ushered us into a room. As much as I hate being famous, this time I was happy for it. The nurse left and I turned and watched as my wife began to button up the cloak so she no longer had to hold it closed. I would not even have suggested going home to change. No mother would walk away from a wounded child. She could have been starkers and she would have stood just as bravely by my side as we had our daughter admitted into the lesser injuries ward.

We had the head healer on duty in our room within minutes. My daughter’s broken arm was lying on her tummy, and her good arm was squeezing my right hand.

I remember the healer saying something about an easy fix. I thanked whoever resides up there that Lockhart was not a healer. He asked my daughter to slightly raise her arm. He then pointed his wand, muttered a dew spells and then white light engulfed her arm before returning it to normal. The healer mentioned she would experience some stiffness and soreness for a few days. My wife and I nodded in understanding. His attention then turned to my wife. He inquired as to her state. My wife’s voice failed her. I stepped in and told him she was attacked. He looked her over and asked if there was anything beyond what he could see that he could heal. My wife shook her head. In truth, if my wife did have any other wounds, they were not ones that could be fixed with anything other than time. I know my wife, I know she is strong. This may faze her, but she will move beyond it, I know she will.

The healer took care of the marks on my wife’s stunningly beautiful face, and said that we were good to go. We returned home to find one of my fellow Aurors waiting outside the house. He mentioned something about not wanting to bother me at the hospital. However he had some troubling news.

I killed a man today.

He said that the man who attacked my wife was dead upon his arrival. A magical scan revealed a punctured lung from a broken rib and massive brain trauma. I stared at him in shock. I knew that I had given this man a beating, but I didn’t expect to kill him. However, I had never felt a rage so primal and dark. I used every bit of strength that I had in my assault. I shouldn’t be surprised. The adrenaline rushing through me at the time amplified my strength to levels I didn’t know existed.

I killed a man today.

After a moment, I realised I didn’t care. That man had tried to assault my wife and broke my daughters arm. I would find out later that night that my little girl tried to save her mother and was met with a firm kick that resulted in her broken arm.

I asked my coworker how he ended up on the scene. The older man contacted him, and also explained everything. He himself said he was on his way to help the woman when I arrived. It turns out the man I killed was in fact a wizard. I put his father in Azkaban.

I killed a man today.

My wife is finally sleeping soundly after a few hours of talking and crying. This is the time when she lets me be her protector. This is the time when I get to pretend to be the strong one. I can never fool myself though. My wife is the stronger. She got me through so much in our school years. I owe her everything. That is the reason why I feel no remorse for killing some lowly punk this night. I didn’t rid the world of the darkest wizard of all time so some piss ant little shit could rob my wife of her soul.

I do feel that this is somewhat my fault. Being married to me means anyone bent on revenge may use her to get to me. She knows this though, and hates it when I speak these thoughts. She married me knowing full well what could happen. Even though I do this to myself, take blame that is, I still want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her. I will never push her away. I couldn’t live without her now.

Our daughter is in our bed in between us tonight as well. I wouldn’t have it any other way either. Not after what happened this evening. If I had my way, she’d sleep with us until she leaves for school in seven years.

I have to go in for questioning tomorrow. They wanted me to bring in my girls. I told them to fuck off. I said they would come in when they were ready. No one argued with me. I learned another thing that day as well. No one messes with a man who almost lost everything.

I killed a man today.

And I realised that I don’t care, because I won’t hesitate when it comes to my girls.