Looking at You, Kid (or: Harry Potter Goes Casablanca)

Warning: AU in all possible directions ;)

Note: I blame this on Liriaen, who tempted me sorely with the following prompt: Sirius Black, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are the central triangle of characters in "Casablanca". What's their version of the famous parting lines (between Bogart and Bergman)? Featuring Sirius as Rick, Harry as Ilsa, and Hermione as Viktor (pun not at all intended :).

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It's a cold, windy late afternoon that finds Harry and Hermione standing before Sirius on the Flying Carpet runway. Sirius lifts his hand and gently cups Harry's face.

"I've been looking at you, kid. The Horcrux - it isn't you. Go with her - get out of here."

Tears glisten in Harry's eyes even as Hermione puts a hand on his sleeve, her gaze nervously fixed at the approaching brooms in the distance. "Harry..."

Harry bites his lip, not able to tear himself away from Sirius's face. Sirius pulls him close for a second; his mouth lightly brushes Harry's lips, then his forehead. He can feel Harry's choked sob against his throat.

Sirius looks at Hermione, his heart as torn as the expression on Harry's face. "Take him away from here. Be safe." And then, banishing all doubt from his voice, "Be happy."

A tiny, pained grimace, then Hermione nods and tugs on Harry's sleeve again. Harry looks at nothing for a second; then he turns away. His hand slips into hers.

They walk towards the waiting carpet, their steps picking up with every bit of distance they gain. Sirius follows Harry's every move, but Harry does not turn to him again. He knows he should be grateful.

Sirius feels the wind tear at his hair as the carpet lifts off, tastes the swirling dust in his mouth like ashes. The dust pricks his eyes, and he wipes it off angrily. He draws his wand. There is something he has yet to do.

A dark figure takes shape in front of him, bringing his broom to a halt on the ground with a thud and all the grace of a mangy owl with two broken legs.

"You blasted fool!" Severus Snape snarls, yellow teeth bared and spraying Sirius' face with spittle in his rage. "The boy is Voldemort's last Horcrux. You helped him escape!" Potion-stained fingers close around air like a vulture's claws sinking into something small, and helpless. "The Dark Lord will rise again, because Sirius Black had to shelter his little catamite!" Snape's face twists, dark and hateful. "He'll never forgive you if he finds out."

Sirius nods, a careless shrug of one shoulder. The wind still tugs at his hair as the Aurors rush up way behind Snape.

"I know," he says, lightly as if he'd not lost anything yet – as if there had been no James, no Azkaban, no Harry... Harry.

He raises his wand, into Snape's uncomprehending, furious face. "And you, and I, are the only ones who know." The birth of comprehension dawns on Snape's ugly features, but this time, this one time, the greasy bastard is too late.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Snape's final slump into the dirt is as graceless as his fall from the sky.

Sirius puts away his wand and waits for the Aurors to land around him and the body. He's killed a fugitive Death Eater and murderer - in self-defence, he hears himself saying to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who nods, albeit with a frown on his face.

Sirius needs to remain free this time, because Snape was right. Lord Voldemort will return, again and again, as long as the last Horcrux remains undestroyed. And Sirius will happily devote - and surrender - the remains of his life to that battle.

But Harry will live. Harry will be free, even if it is in Hermione's arms. But he'll be free. And that's all that matters.

~ fin ~