Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling
Life is Like a Box of Chocolates
Harry stood outside of his amber stone clad home, and he shivered as rain poured down him as he looked up at the darkened windows that he knew opened up into his bedroom. He was aware that his wife was in there, and he desperately wanted to go to her. But he, the man who had defeated Voldemort, was afraid: Afraid of what he would find; afraid of what he would do once he confronted his wife; afraid of what he might lose.
As he stood looking up at the window, Harry thought back to a movie that he had once seen called 'Forrest Gump'. He had likened himself at the time to the hero of the movie, the namesake 'Forrest'. Like Forrest, he had overcome adversity. Like Forrest, he had eventually gotten the girl. And now, just like Forrest, he had lost her. The only difference between him and Forrest was that Forrest had lost his girl to death, while Harry had lost his to love.
As lightening lit up the sky, Harry spotted a woman's silhouette in the window. It was her, the only woman Harry would ever love. Harry could still remember how he had felt the very first time they had kissed. If, as the Forrest Gump movie suggested, life was like a box of chocolates, then that kiss would have been an orange crème, one of Harry's favorites. Harry then thought about the two precious gifts his wife had given him, his children. Each of their births could be likened to rum filled chocolates, potent, and for that one brief moment, affording a sensation of pleasure like no other.
But then things had changed, and Harry had felt Hermione slipping away from him. But with the resurgence of a splinter faction that was trying to emulate Voldemort's former acts, his time had become more and more taken up dealing with eliminating them. And feeling guilty, Harry had encouraged his wife to spend time with someone he had once considered a friend, even a son. And having a shared love of knowledge, the two had hit it off almost immediately.
Unfortunately, Harry had discovered how well they had hit it off when he had returned home early from a trip to find the couple together, and, instead of confronting them, Harry had withdrew, shock rendering him unable to process what he had just seen, his wife covered by another man, a man into whose arms he had pushed her.
Suddenly lightening again ripped across the sky, disturbing Harry's thoughts, and, upon glancing up at the silhouette, Harry wondered if his wife could see him. Harry stiffened as a second silhouette, a man he considered the bitterest chocolate in the box, coffee crème, joined the first, and Harry gave a bitter laugh. "If only those Death Eaters could see me now, cowering like a coward."
In her bedroom, Hermione pulled her robe tightly around her as she looked out over the storm lit gardens. She did not know why, but she had felt drawn to the window. She was half aware that behind her, her lover had risen, and this was confirmed as a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her waist. And she shivered as a mouth settled on her neck, gently nipping at it. "Come back to bed."
Hermione swiveled around. "You should go."
The dark-haired man shook his head. "He won't be back until tomorrow morning."
"But what if he comes back early?" Hermione asked worriedly.
"Then he'll probably kill me," her lover said. "You know he will."
"Then please don't give him reason to do it. Please go," Hermione begged in a scared voice.
"Are you afraid of him?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, but I'm afraid of what he might do to you. He's never had anything to call his own up until he married me."
"You're a person, Hermi," the man argued. "You're not a possession, and certainly not his."
"But I'm his wife," Hermione reminded the younger man. "And he loves me."
"But you don't love him, do you?" the man countered. When Hermione failed to answer, he pushed. "If you loved him, then you wouldn't be with me."
"I did love him," Hermione said softly. "But then his work got in the way, and he never seemed to have time for me anymore."
"I have time for you," the man said, stroking Hermione's face. "I love you."
"What about your wife?" Hermione brought up the woman the man holding her had married less than two years earlier.
"I made a mistake," he said. "I confused love with friendship."
"And how do you know you're not doing it now?" Hermione countered.
He knew that it was more than just friendship he felt for Hermione, although he had to admit that he had never once considered being any more than a friend until one fateful day six months earlier. "Because I think… no, I know… that I'd die without you, Hermi."
Hermione shuddered in the man's arms. "Kiss me."
Standing outside the darkened house, Harry wondered what was being said. As he stood there, he thought back to the time when he had slipped the Potter bridal ring on to Hermione's finger. He had thought he had died and gone to heaven. In her white shantung silk dress she had looked like an angel. Now he could only think that his angel had somehow lost her wings. The chocolate coated cherry he would have likened his wedding to had become like a bitter pill, and his delight in marrying the woman of his dreams had melted away, just like the chocolate. And as lightening lit up the sky again, Harry could see his wife kissing the man in their room. Harry shook himself. "No more. No more."
Locked in a fevered embrace, neither Hermione nor her lover noticed the door opening until the man holding her was blasted away from Hermione and into the wall, where he hit his head and crumpled to the ground.
Hermione swung around to see her husband standing framed in the doorway, a strange look on his face and his wand in his hand, and she hurried over to where her lover lay, using her body as a shield. "Harry, no!"
"I loved you, Hermione," Harry said, as he walked into the room. "I still do despite what you've done to me. How could you, and with him of all people?"
"You were never here, Harry," Hermione responded, tears starting to run down her cheeks. "And he was."
"Do you love him?" Harry asked in a calm, almost deadly voice.
It was a voice that made Hermione shiver, and she struggled to respond. "Harry… I… We…"
"I said do you love him?" Harry did not raise his voice but his anger was unmistakable.
"Yes," Hermione whispered.
"Why didn't you just leave me?" Harry asked. "Why do this?"
"I didn't want to hurt you." Hermione wiped away the tears that were flowing more quickly now.
Harry gave a bitter laugh, and the dam on his anger broke. "You could have fooled me. You've been fucking him for six months, Hermione, six fucking months!"
Hermione went white. "How did you know?"
"Because looking back that's when you changed. You made excuses not to sleep with me; you started changing the way you dressed; heck, you even made an effort to exercise. At the time I thought nothing of it." He gave yet another bitter laugh. "I'm supposed to be head of Auror Division, someone who's supposed to have his finger on the pulse, and yet I missed what was in front of me."
"So how did you know?" Hermione asked, sparing a quick glance at the man she was protecting, who had groaned but still had not come to.
"I left Vienna early." Harry watched shock cross Hermione's face. "I wanted to surprise you. Instead you surprised me."
"Oh Merlin!" Hermione's hand went to her mouth as she recalled that that was the first time the couple had slept together in her marital bed. "Harry, I…"
Harry shook his head. "Don't, Hermione. Just don't."
The man groaned. "Hermi?"
"Don't move," Hermione said, her voice full of compassion, concern and love.
At the gentle and loving tone, Harry's stomach bottomed out. "You bastard!"
The man struggled to sit up, putting his arm around Hermione. Blinking to try and clear the fuzziness in his head, he stared up at Harry. "Don't blame her."
"I blame both of you," Harry told him. "She parted her legs for you and you gladly took what she offered." Harry looked down at the man with disgust on his face. "I loved you like a son, Teddy, and just like a son, you need to be punished for what you've done."
Hermione gave a small scream of fear. "Harry, no!"
"I told you he'd kill me," Teddy said calmly. "So go ahead, Uncle Harry. Kill me."
Harry raised his wand, a strange calm washing over him as he said the spell to take a life. "Avada Kedavra."
One Week Later
All around him Harry could see people staring at him in dismay and disgust. The man who had defeated the worst scourge the wizarding world had ever seen had fallen from grace, and there were none who would defend him.
And Harry did not care. He had committed a crime and he deserved what he knew was to come. He therefore stood silently with the magical handcuffs chaffing at his wrists while he waited for the death sentence to be read out.
"Harry James Potter, you have been found guilty of the murder of Hermione Jane Potter, and it is the decision of the Wizengamot that the sentence of death be carried out immediately. Do you have anything to say?"
Harry glanced at the archway to his left, the ragged curtain fluttering wildly as if in a breeze, and he shook his head.
His box of chocolates was empty, and it was time to go.