Unforgivable Promises

Unforgivable Promises

Chapter 19

----------

The full moon came and went, bearing no word from Remus. Harry agonized over his promise to Snape not to use his bond to Voldemort to spy. By the evening after the full moon, the young man was not sure if his word to his professor or his fear of seeing Remus being tortured was keeping him from doing so. He had been sending Hedwig out, however, with a note addressed to Remus asking, simply, "Are you well?" The owl had returned yet again, and Harry was in the owlery as midnight approached, trying to coax Hedwig out for another flight. As he gazed out into the night sky, movement caught his eye. A figure stumbled out from beneath the still branches of the Whomping Willow, illuminated by the gibbous moon. From so far away, Harry could not make out details, but his heart leapt to his throat, and he was suddenly sure.

Another quickly written note was attached to Hedwig's leg. "Find a professor and give them that letter. Any professor!" With the bird in flight, Harry raced to the stairs.

Outside, Harry spotted the man in time to see him fall just outside the Willow's reach. The ground between them melted away as Harry rushed to his friend's side. Finally, he could see him clearly enough to know that Remus had returned. His cloak was filthy and torn, barely covering his panting form as the werewolf knelt.

"Remus!" Harry fell to his knees and pulled him into a hug. "Are you okay? I sent Hedwig to find a professor. Someone should be here in a few minutes. Can you stand?" The man nodded and, legs shaking, rose. Harry pulled out his wand.

"Lumos." The tip of Harry's wand lit up as the boy sighed in relief. Though bruised and battered, his friend would survive. Harry himself had suffered worse, and he did not have the healing qualities of a werewolf. "I'll send up a flare in a minute," Harry said. "So whoever comes out can find us."

"They'll be too late," Remus said without emotion. Harry paled. Was there something wrong with Remus he could not see?

"Expelliarmus!" Remus shouted, knocking Harry back. The unexpected attack left Harry's wand out of reach. "Accio wand," Remus said, much more softly this time. "You won't live long enough for them to be able to help you."

Harry's eyes grew wide, pale green in the moonlight, as realization struck. Polyjuice Potion, Harry thought as the man continued to speak.

"My mission was to destroy your wand, but now that I have you here, I think I'll kill you once I've burnt this. Locomotor Mortis."

He had no hope of dodging the curse, laying on his back only a few feet away from his attacker. Harry's legs stiffened and his knees refused to bend. He made a show of struggling, earning a disdainful look from whoever it was that now looked like Remus. Secretly, however, Harry slid his hand up his sleeve to brush against Snape's gift. With a sneer, his captor pointed his own wand at Harry's, and the moment his attention turned from the immobilized boy, Harry had his second wand out.

Harry put all of his energy into the blasting curse that caught the man in the side, knowing he had but one shot to push his target back far enough. Both wands flew from the impostor's hands as he was tossed several feet into the air. He did not land immediately, however, as the Whomping Willow brought a mighty bough up, crashing into him. The snapping of bones and horrifying angle the body took on left no doubt in Harry's mind that his attacker would no longer threaten anyone. It was at that moment that some logical corner of Harry's mind stumbled on another explanation for the attacker's appearance. The Imperius Curse suddenly seemed the more likely explanation, and the thought that he may have just killed his friend, his father's last friend, struck him nearly as hard as the body struck the earth. It came down almost exactly where the man had been standing when Harry had blasted him.

Terrified to look but unable not to, Harry shut his eyes in relief when the features of the body before him began to shift and change. This was not Remus, simply a Death Eater under some kind of spell or potion. He opened his eyes, and grief overtook him again. Shattered, with cold, empty eyes staring at him, Draco Malfoy lay dead. Harry went numb. I shouldn't care, Harry told himself. He was going to kill me. He wanted the Mark, Snape said so. He made his decision. The thoughts were no consolation. Even when Snape had told him that he had no hope for Draco, Harry still believed that some day the other boy, along with the seven others who had been Marked, and along with all the others who still attended Hogwarts, could be saved. Harry had decided to save them, though he could not remember when or with what words. Maybe there had been no words at all. But the promise was still in his heart, and tonight he had broken it.

"Lumos," a voice behind Harry said. He did not even blink as Snape's light illuminated his failure. He did not turn around when the Potions Master asked, "Harry? Where is Remus?" He did not answer as the man's footsteps brought him to Harry's shoulder. He could only stare at the body before him. They had been rivals for years, but never enemies. Not in Harry's mind. Not like Voldemort was an enemy.

Snape's hand was on his shoulder, though he did not speak. Harry felt like he had to say something. "I hit him with a blasting curse and knocked him into the Willow's reach."

"You did what you had to, Harry." The professor's hand fell from his shoulder, and Harry reacted to the sudden loss of contact. Though the night air was still warm, he began to shiver uncontrollably. Still behind him, Snape pulled the edges of his own cloak around Harry, his arms folding around them both. He hugged the young man to his chest, Harry taking what warmth the man had to give, Snape offering what little compassion he could still find within himself.

Harry did not cry. He had no more tears to give to Voldemort. He mourned, though. He mourned for the dead man in front of him, and all the dead that would come after. He mourned for everyone he could not save. And he mourned for himself.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. Arms tightened around him.

"We should go back to the castle, Harry. It's not safe. And if he escaped without us knowing, there must be a security breach somewhere. Other lives may be at risk."

Harry simply nodded in response, not quite paying attention, but trusting to Snape to know what was best. Harry picked up the two dropped wands, and the Potions Master cast a masking charm on Draco's body as he led his student back to the school in silence.

McGonagall met them in the entrance. "There you are! Harry, we have wonderful news. Remus Lupin is alive and well. He was captured, as we had feared, but escaped last night during the full moon." She stopped speaking when her news failed to elicit cries of joy. "What is it, Harry? Severus, what has happened?"

Snape shook his head. "Not here, Minerva. We need to see Albus."

The interview with the headmaster was mercifully short. Harry told his story and the Ministry was informed immediately. McGonagall was sent to show the officials where the Whomping Willow grew and to inform Harry's friends that he was with Dumbledore, the latter to keep them from sending out search parties that might stumble upon their former peer. Snape stayed by Harry's side. The Ministry official who took Harry's statement took even less time questioning him than Dumbledore had.

"That's all?" Harry asked as the man stood to leave. "You don't need anything else?"

"Well, no, Mr. Potter. Not really. Begging everyone's pardon, but the Malfoy boy was a known Death Eater. We'd only just found out about his escape when Headmaster Dumbledore reported this. We have a dead Auror in his old cell, charmed to look like him. According to the Acting Minister, we're under martial law. So what happened tonight was either an act of war, or plain old justice. Either way, I don't think we'll need to bother you about it any more." And with those words and a polite nod, he left the room.

----------

Severus watched the headmaster as the Ministry investigator left. Though Dumbledore was trying to hide it, Snape could see his superior was shaken by what had happened. A Death Eater had made it onto the grounds and he knew the old man had thought that impossible, at least not without Dumbledore knowing about it. As he took Harry by the arm and lead him away from the office, he wondered if the tree would still be there the next morning. Secret passages were useful, yes, but only while they remained a secret.

At the bottom of the stairs, Snape's attention was on Harry. He had been silent for most of the hour since Snape had found him, speaking only when directly addressed. He knew all too well how the boy was suffering.

"Harry, if you'd like, I have a good deal of work I need done. There are some ingredients to prepare and preserve. And I did not have time this summer to make antidotes for most of the potions I will teach this year. When Gryffindors are in the dungeon, I need to prepare for the worst."

He did not react to the joke, but answered, "Thank you, Professor, but I don't really want to talk any more."

"And I said nothing of talking. Simply working. Something to occupy the mind."

"Oh," Harry said. "It's late, though. I don't-"

"The time is irrelevant, Harry. I am sure you will not sleep tonight, and sleeping potions will not help you when you wake up tomorrow." He led the way to the dungeon. "Come. I am up all night anyway. The undead do not sleep."

Harry gave him a soft chuckle for the self-deprecation. He knew Harry feigned it for his own benefit, but accepted the false laugh as better than nothing.

----------

Two hours later, Harry sealed another jar of Blizzard Lizard gizzards and excused himself from Snape's private workroom to sit by the fire. His fingers tingled as he held them close to the flames, the feeling returning.

"You should have worn the gloves I gave you," Snape said, settling next to him on the couch.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't mind the cold. I kind of liked it, I guess. And I had to pay more attention to keep from getting frostbite. The whole point was to distract me, right?"

"Indeed it was."

The Potions Master leaned back into the couch and gazed into the fire. Moments later, his fingers warm again, Harry did the same. The two sat in silence, both lost in thoughts. Harry again replayed Draco's death in his mind. He recalled the boy he had known, arrogant and angry. He reflected on the Draco he saw on the first day of school, with his emotionless voice, and the voice, deeper in pitch and disguised as Remus's but just as emotionless, that had threatened him tonight. Draco had promised to hurt or kill him more than once, but Harry had never taken the words seriously. He had no doubt, though, that the threat had been sincere this time, and given a chance, the other boy would have killed him without a second thought. He closed his eyes and sighed softly.

"You had no choice, Harry. He would have killed you, given the chance."

"And when I had the chance, I killed him. Are we that different, then?"

"Of course you are, Harry. You didn't go looking to kill anyone tonight. You acted in self-defense and in doing so, saved more than your own life. He would have killed again; of that you can be certain. His hands are stained with the blood of more than one innocent."

"And my hands are stained now too, aren't they?" Harry asked more to himself than to his professor. "That'll never wash off, will it?"

"No, it won't, Harry. But it doesn't have to ruin your life. You can't let it. You made a choice tonight, Harry. You chose your life over his. If you close yourself off and sink into guilt, you'll be killing yourself for him."

"This won't be the last time, though. I don't know if I can kill anyone again, not if it feels like this."

"It can get easier. It certainly gets easier for some."

"I don't think I want it to," Harry said softly.

Snape's arm circled around his shoulders and pulled him close. Harry leaned against the man's chest, thankful, eager, for the support. "Then it won't."

Harry rested in his friend's embrace. Here was someone who understood everything he had been through. Here was someone who knew that sometimes being right or good, fighting for the Light, held little consolation. Here was someone who, tonight at least, did not need him to be strong and was willing to lend him strength. Those arms around him by the Willow had been all that kept him from falling apart.

Finally, Harry asked, "How do I go on, then? How can I fight knowing I have to kill at least one more person, and probably more?" It was an earnest question, one Harry desperately wanted an answer for, and one he thought Snape alone may be able to answer.

"Logic says you realize that actions taken in self defense shouldn't lead to guilt. Draco would have killed you, and the Dark Lord surely will try. But if it were that simple, neither of us would bear such heavy burdens. Someone once told me that you atone for the lives you take with the life you live. If you must feel that you owe a debt, pay it by proving your life had value and was worth protecting. You're going to bring wonderful things to this world, Harry, and I'm not just talking about your role in this war. If he had lived and you had not, the same could not be said. I know very well that that is little comfort, but it is true."

"Is that why you're a teacher?"

The Potions Master was silent for several seconds before answering. "That's why I began teaching, yes."

----------

Severus shook Harry's shoulder gently. The boy grunted and pushed his hand away. He considered, briefly, hexing the sleeping figure awake, but decency got the better of him. "Harry, wake up." He shook the boy again and succeeded in getting his eyes open.

Harry looked around in a daze; it took several seconds of staring before he recognized his teacher standing in front of him. "What time is it?"

"It is half past six. I allowed you to sleep in as it is a weekend."

"Sleep in?" Harry asked, then caught the amused smile on Snape's face. "I feel asleep."

"It's a bit late in the conversation to just be arriving at that conclusion. At any rate, you really have to be getting back to your tower. Your friends will be worried, as will Minerva."

Harry stood and straightened his robes. "Can't I stay here? I'd really rather not have to talk to anyone right now."

"I'm sorry, Harry. I understand how you feel, but I have work to do for the Order. And I am sure your friends will respect your reluctance to talk."

"You don't know how Hermione can get," Harry argued.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "You really don't want me, of all people, to point out that you are not giving your friends enough credit, do you?"

Harry chuckled. "No, that would be going too far, I suppose. And you're right. Can you tell me what you're doing for the Order?"

Harry's choice of words were not lost on the man. If he said that no, he could not tell him, he suspected Harry would accept that. The work, however, was hardly something he needed to keep secret from Harry. "I'm working with Fletcher and some of the other less reputable members, discussing which Death Eaters are to be approached for information."

"None will be as highly ranked as you, though, right? Could anyone else hide their actions as well as you?"

"No, I do not imagine so. All in the Inner Circle are surely loyal. My betrayal certainly triggered a very intense, and very unpleasant, interrogation of those who remain. But his lesser servants are not subjected to his direct questioning often and will at least have knowledge of whatever operations they take part in. Several minor informants may allow us to anticipate larger plans."

"Good luck, then." Harry stepped toward the now-visible archway and turned back to face Severus. "And Professor? Thanks. For last night, and . . . everything."

Unused to gratitude and suddenly uncomfortable, Severus responded with a nod. Before Harry left, he added, "Ah, there is a stone in the wall, just left of the bust of Slytherin. Round, set within a larger block. Press it with your wand and I will know you are outside. Salazar makes a poor messenger."

"Thank you again."

----------

Harry stepped into the Gryffindor common room lightly, hoping no one would be awake. So many thoughts were crowding his mind, he needed time to sort everything out. He made his way silently to his room and managed to lay down without waking any of his roommates.

Never before had he felt so alone in the Tower. He wondered if his friends would see the difference in him tomorrow. Would they see the life he had taken scrawled across his face? Logically, he knew he was still the same person he was before, but still, he felt different. Could his friends understand that, or would they simply congratulate Harry on winning the fight and ridding the world of another Death Eater? The official from the Ministry had wanted to congratulate Harry; Harry could sense it. If winning felt this way, he would be more than happy to experience more draws. These were the same thoughts that had plagued him most of the night, aside from the few hours of sleep he had found on Snape's couch.

Snape understood, of course. Lately, it was always Snape who understood. When Harry had needed, more than anything in the world, someone to not talk to, Snape had been there. And when he did need to talk, he knew Snape had answers that would mean something. He needed someone to tell him it was going to be hard and painful, because it was hard, and it was painful, and saying anything else would have been a lie. And beneath it all, Harry had heard what Snape was really telling him. Harry would get through this, because Snape had too.

He could not help but wonder if the Potions Master had known exactly what Harry needed because he, too, needed it.

----------

Harry never returned to sleep that morning. Eventually, Dean and Seamus woke up and greeted Harry, then dressed and headed off to breakfast. In doing so, they managed to wake both Neville and Ron. Harry fended off their questions, assuring his friends he was okay, but explaining that he doubted he could tell the story twice. They agreed to wait until after breakfast when the girls could hear the tale without anyone else eavesdropping.

They took the news with shocked silence which Ron eventually broke. "Good work, Harry. One less Death Eater. I'll have to thank Snape again for the wands, too."

"Don't say that, Ron!" His friend gaped at him. "There was nothing good about it. It was horrible."

"It's over now, Harry," Hermione said, placing a hand on his arm. "You were just defending yourself. He would have killed you."

"That doesn't make it any easier. And it's not over. I'll have to live with this forever."

"Better him dead than you, Harry. You can't regret saving your own life," Ron said.

"I don't. It's not that at all, it's. . . You guys don't understand."

"Well, talk to us, Harry," Ginny spoke up. "We're your friends. We want to understand; help us."

"No!" Harry jumped up. "Don't you get it? I don't want you to understand. I hope none of you ever do. No one should know what it's like to kill someone else."

Ron paled, and Harry suddenly very much wanted to be alone. He started to talk walk away when Neville called to him. "Harry, you can't leave by yourself." His friend caught up to him. "It's too dangerous Harry. If anyone else knows and wants revenge. . ." Harry sighed, recalling his agreement not to wander around alone.

"Well, I'm going to the library, then."

The day did not improve, certainly not after Dumbledore pulled Harry aside just before lunch to warn him that the Heads of Houses would be filling their students in on what had happened. It would be in the Daily Prophet soon enough, and the Headmaster wanted to avoid any scenes. Harry simply nodded, trusting the teachers to give only the details necessary to quell the rumors. So, by mid afternoon, the whole school knew. No one asked him anything about it, however, which was curious but by no means unwelcome. Harry did start to worry that his classmates were too afraid of him to even talk to him now, but Luna later explained that all the Heads had expressly forbidden anyone from approaching Harry about it.

By dinner, Snape had not returned, and Harry found himself missing the quiet of the dungeons. He had never been able to concentrate well when reading, so the library provided little distraction from his thoughts. Not long after the students returned to the Tower after dinner, Harry excused himself and drew the curtains about his bed. Fatigue should have overwhelmed him, but for the second night in a row, sleep did not come until very early the next morning.

----------

Harry woke, sweating, heart racing, and sitting upright in his bed. His sense of panic fled as consciousness rose. He had no memory of the dream that had caused his violent awakening but had a good guess. With a quiet sigh, he checked the time and decided that an early breakfast alone was better than one in the Great Hall. One invisibility cloak and one tickled pear later, he was sitting alone near the fires at a long table with a cup of tea and some toast.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled him from his introspection. Harry turned guiltily to find Snape behind him. "Ah, good morning, Professor. Good to see you back."

Snape simply smirked in response and sat across from Harry. He must have been a regular visitor to the kitchen as a House Elf appeared instantly with a plate of food and a cup of black tea.

"You should not be down here, Harry."

"I know. I don't come here often. And I try not to get in the Elves' way."

"That's not what I was referring to. I'll be taking ten points from Gryffindor for the infraction, but I'm more concerned with you being here alone in an area of the castle not visited often by staff, and theoretically not at all by students."

Harry picked up his cloak. "I used this to get here. And Dobby and the other House Elves keep an eye out for everyone. Everyone but teachers, I guess. But since it's only been the Defense teachers I had to worry about in the past, I guess that's not a concern this year."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Explain what you mean by that."

Harry was taken aback. He could sense anger hovering at the edge of Snape's voice. It was a sound he was no longer accustomed to hearing. "I meant I can trust her not to try and hurt or kill me, unlike four of the last five teachers we've had." Harry suddenly understood what Snape had thought he had been saying. "I never thought she was harmless, Sir."

"And she most certainly is not," the man stated, then visibly relaxed.

"Is there a reason you've been so nice to her lately?" Harry had been curious about that for some time.

The Potions Master gazed into his tea, swirling it about gently. "There is. It has little to do with her personally, really. But she occasionally requires assistance, and for the first time in a very long while, I am in a position to provide it."

Harry's eyes grew wide. "You're being nice!" he accused. Snape simply gazed at him coolly. He chewed on his toast for a little while, then added. "If you don't mind me saying so, I think it's great that you can provide assistance simply because you want to."

Snape chuckled at Harry and pointed at him. "That kind of comment, Mr. Potter, is exactly the sort of thing that fueled my assessment of your arrogance."

Harry was puzzled. He knew the man was not calling him arrogant, but he could not see what he had said that could be mistaken for it. Surely he was not referring to his casual questioning of a professor, as until recently Harry would never have done so with the Potions Master.

"And you still have no idea what I mean, do you?" Snape asked. Harry shook his head, smiling crookedly. "You said it was 'great' that I could help Professor Jones simply because I want to. Did it escape your notice that you brought that situation about? I am free to act without ulterior motive because of you."

Harry blinked. "That's not what I meant-"

"I am aware of that. I find it amusing that it had not even occurred to you until I pointed it out. For years I assumed you were self-centered when in fact you are simply too thick to gloat."

"Well, there it is. You were almost nice again. I was getting worried, but I'm glad you're feeling better."

"Nice? Even almost nice? Nonsense. Fortunately, I have business with the Headmaster and will be spared further accusations."

----------

After his meeting with Albus, Severus made his way to his own office lost in thought. He was finally becoming accustomed to these periodic insights into Potter's character. Insights that did not include vitriol, at least, were a relatively new addition to his thoughts about the boy. What he had said to Harry at breakfast had been true, though the man had never consciously thought about it. Harry honestly did not consider his own role in such things. He had no problem blaming himself, in part at least, for his godfather's death. And surely his guilt over Draco would linger for some time. But though he had had a hand in many important, positive situations, he did not see himself in that light. It was a selflessness Severus was not used to. And it was that, he realized, that led so many to his side. Harry possessed a charm that few had, and if he were ever truly aware of it, he would lose it.

Back in his office for only a few minutes, Severus had just sat at his desk when the object of his thoughts knocked at the door. "Followed me to further assault me with claims of my kindness to the elderly and affection for small animals?" Snape asked.

Harry chuckled and entered. "I would never go that far. Plus, I haven't time. I'm spending the next month answering the day's mail from adoring fans." With an insolent grin, he approached the desk, then grew noticeably subdued. "Actually, I came to ask if you still needed ingredients prepared. I don't think I was very good company yesterday for my friends. You were right about them not pushing me to talk, but it was still uncomfortable. I know they want to help, but there's nothing they can do or say, but I don't think they realize that."

"Or they are unwilling to realize it. And if that is the case, remember that they are not trying to hurt you, they simply do not know what you need and are unused to being unable to help." Harry nodded and lowered his head. "As for ingredients, I do have some more work to take care of, yes."

He led Harry into the classroom and showed him what needed to be done. The preparations were simple enough, just time consuming and requiring more care than younger students were ever willing to give.

"Oh, and I forgot to ask earlier," Harry said as he heated the cauldron of warthog optic nerves. "Did you have any luck yesterday?"

"Yes, actually. I made contact with two Death Eaters who have expressed a desire to help." Snape set down his quill. He should have told Harry this immediately. He knew why he hesitated, and it was irrational. "Their names are Hobbins and Kletch. Both have been Death Eaters since the last war, though neither rose very far, which seems to suit them both just fine. Hobbins's story is not unlike mine. He was an unhappy child and grew to an unhappy adult. Kletch comes from a family of dark wizards but apparently lacked the strength to refuse the Mark when his parents insisted. And both . . ." Snape trailed off; Harry turned to face him, concerned. "Both required assurance that, if it should come to it, they would be given the same protection from the Dark Lord that I have received." Harry tensed and his green eyes nearly blazed with intensity.

"What did you tell them?" Harry asked. It looked to Severus like the boy was holding his breath.

He had struggled all day yesterday with the question, knowing that both Death Eaters would only turn if they could avoid the Dark Lord's punishment. As necessary as new spies were to the Order, Snape had never been one to make promises on another's behalf. Making a promise that would cost him nothing while earning Harry the potential for excruciating pain had been one of the most difficult tasks the Order had ever set him. "I told them they would be protected," he admitted.

Harry exhaled noisily. "Oh! I was afraid you'd told them no. They have a way to get to the school if they need me?"

"They do," Severus replied, hiding his surprise. Though really, the boy's reaction should not have surprised him at all. Of course he would want to risk the worst pain imaginable if it meant gaining two more spies. No, the Potions Master thought, Harry did not think in quite those terms. In his mind, he was protecting two more people from the Dark Lord, not gaining two spies. He probably would have agreed to protect them even if they had not agreed to risk themselves. Harry had turned back to his work as Snape continued to watch him.

The boy was, quite literally, the only thing standing between him and death by the Dark Lord's Mark. As a Death Eater and a spy, he had had to put his life in the hands of others on countless occasions and he had hated every moment of it. So many people had failed him in the past, he had learned to trust only his own skills and his own resolve. How was it, then, that this latest situation was met not with fear and frustration, but confidence and trust?