A/N:

Written as part of an assignment for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments)

Subject: Potions

Task: Write about someone being paralyzed.

Prompts: (Character) Pomona Sprout, (Item) Flower Pot

Gringotts: OC Name: Male – Vincent Tate; Spells/Charms: Jinx – Singing Jinx; Feelings/Emotions: Hurt – Humiliated, Wronged; Charmed Season 1: Episode 5 – (Word) Paralysed; Charmed Season 1: Episode 12 – (Word) Betrayal

Chocolate Frog: Bronze – Arcturus Black I – Prompts – Gold, Possible, Family, Old

Word Count: 962


Betrayal

Pomona hummed quietly to herself as she walked down the winding path that led to her modest cottage that she shared with her fiancé Vincent Tate.

She was very much looking forward to surprising him by arriving home early from work, having had the help of a few enthusiastic seventh years doing the preparations for the next day's lessons.

She understood how hard it had been for him to move to a new village, and that he had been having trouble finding work ever since his career ending Quidditch injury earlier that year. She also knew that she had been awfully busy at work, and hadn't been there for him as much as she should have been, but she was determined to more than make up for it, and she would start by making him his favourite meal.

The green-fingered witch placed the flower pot under her arm, and opened her front door.

As she walked inside, and set her keys down on the small round table by the door, Pomona couldn't help but notice that it was eerily quiet inside, especially considering that Vincent was loud, proud, and unashamed of making as much noise as possible.

Pomona contented herself with the thought that Vincent must had gone down the road to the pub for a Butterbeer or two. After all, there was only so much time you could spend staring at the same four walls without getting bored, and he needed to get out of the house more.

She meandered into the kitchen, and poured herself a glass of cold water.

As she sipped the water she heard a clatter upstairs, followed by a soft and unfamiliar giggle.

Someone was in her house.

The witch set the glass down, and headed upstairs to investigate the sound.

She wandered along the corridor, straining her ears to hear any other noises, and she wasn't disappointed. As she neared the end of corridor where her bedroom was located, she heard the soft laughter again.

As Pomona placed her hand on the door handle, her mind raced with all the possibilities of what she would find on the other side. She fiercely hoped that there would be an innocent explanation instead of the worst case scenario she was vividly envisioning.

She pushed the door open, and froze.

It was worse; so much worse than she could ever have imagined. She would give all the gold in the world for it not to be true, but there was no arguing with what was right in front of her.

There he was, the love of her life, doing unspeakable things to the woman he had introduced to her as his sister – Vivian.

She knew that she should say something, do something, or leave – do anything but just stand there and watch them, but she couldn't.

No matter how much she willed her eyes to move away from the entwined couple, no matter how much she silently begged her feet to move, she couldn't.

She was rooted to the spot – paralysed by her shock, by her disbelief, and by the ultimate betrayal.

Her whole future vanished before her very eyes. The possibility of growing old and grey with the man who was supposed to always love her, and having a family had been ripped away from her in the blink of an eye.

Minutes could have passed, or even hours. Time had no meaning as tears pricked her eyes, and the couple reached the conclusion of their copulation.

"I wish you could stay, my dear, but Pom will be home soon," she heard him whisper as he kissed her tenderly on the cheek the same way he would with her.

"When are you going to tell her Vincent?" Vivian asked in a whiny voice.

"Soon, very soon, my love, and then we will be together," Vincent promised, sitting up in the bed, and swinging his legs around to face the window. "I just need a little more time."

Pomona narrowed her eyes at the now fully revealed woman, who had finally realised they were not alone in the bedroom.

"Would now be too soon?" Vivian asked with a smug look on her face.

"Of course it is, Viv," Vincent said, turning around to face his lover, and his eyes fell on Pomona who was still stood in the doorway.

"Pom, I'm sorry – it's not what it –" he started.

"Don't, just don't," Pomona whispered quietly, trying to keep her voice steady. "Pack your bags and go. I never want to see you again. And you can take the bed with you!"

When he didn't move, Pomona, finally finding the will to move, reached into the inside of her robe and drew her wand.

"Now Vincent," she hissed, pointing her wand directly at him and firing a stinging jinx at him. "Get out, and take your whore with you."

Pomona fired more stinging hexes at her now ex-fiancé and his lover as they scrambled around for their clothes, and continued a rapid stream of them until they disapparated from view.

As soon as they were gone Pomona sank to the ground, and finally allowed the strangled cry she had been holding back to come. She hugged her knees to her chest, and rocked back and forth as she cried.

She wished that she could obliviate the scenes she had witnessed from her memory, but she knew that if she did she would forget the all important lesson that she had learnt.

Men were scum. They could not be trusted, and she would never allow herself to trust another one with her heart – it would only leave her open and vulnerable to further humiliation.

It was a tough lesson, but it was one that she would carry with her forever.