Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
James Potter Peter Pettigrew Remus Lupin Sirius Black Lord Voldemort
Genres:
Action Drama
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 01/04/2005
Updated: 04/09/2006
Words: 102,743
Chapters: 24
Hits: 32,685

Promises Defended

RobinLady

Story Summary:
The war has been raging for twenty-two years. Voldemort has taken Azkaban, destroyed the Ministry, and massacred innocents in Diagon Alley. The government is in pieces, the Aurors are crippled, and the Order is struggling to hold the world together. Little stands between the Dark Lord and final victory, save the bonds between four friends—bonds by which the Wizarding world will live or die. Set in the Unbroken Universe, the sequel to Promises Remembered. AU.

Chapter 06

Chapter Summary:
The war has been raging for twenty-two years. Voldemort has taken Azkaban, destroyed the Ministry, raided Hogsmeade, and massacred innocents in Diagon Alley. The government is in pieces, the Aurors are crippled, and the Order is struggling to hold the world together. Little stands between the Dark Lord and final victory, save the bonds between four friends—bonds by which the Wizarding world will live or die. Set in the Unbroken Universe, the sequel to Promises Remembered. AU.
Posted:
04/04/2005
Hits:
1,281

Promises Defended

Chapter Six: That Which Breaks the Heart

Remus was supposed to be there. Not him.

"Do I really have to go, Mum?" Harry asked plaintively, his green eyes wary. "They don't like me. The only time I ever met them, they--"

She sighed. "I know, dear. But it's the only place that I know you'll be safe. Hidden."

"But I won't get in trouble, really! I'll be so quiet that you don't even know I'm there. No one will see me--I can wear the cloak or I can--I can..." The twelve year old trailed off, swallowing.

"I know, Harry," Lily said gently. He felt like an intruder, like he didn't belong here at all, but Remus was stuck in a meeting with the Board of Governors. James was there also, so he was stuck. And Peter was meeting with an ambassador from somewhere, playing politician and doing something useful. And he was Harry's godfather, to top it all off, so Sirius had been elected. "But we can't risk it...or maybe we just won't risk it. Not your life." She swallowed, squeezing her son's shoulder. "Either way, you only have to stay for eleven days, and then you'll be back at Hogwarts."

Harry bit his lip. "And then what?"

"By then, hopefully, the war will be over," Lily whispered. She really was feeling the strain these days.

The words came before he could stop them. "One way or another."

Both mother and child twisted around to look at Sirius, almost stopping in the middle of the Muggle sidewalk. He immediately regretted the words; his voice had sounded so cold, so dead. But he was only half-human these days, anyway, and he could not have felt more out of place.

Besides, it's not like I'm lying, Sirius thought to himself. Still, he took a deep breath to force the feeling away, surprised at his own steadiness. One way or another.

His godson stared at him in silence for a long moment before Lily nudged him along, turning right to head up the immaculate front walkway of Number Four, Privet Drive. It was a quaint little house, freshly painted and with oddly weed free flowerbeds in front, but presented a nice, if Muggle, picture of contented prosperity. Sirius let his eyes travel over the newly cut front grass, the smooth driveway, and the utterly perfect atmosphere--and then grimaced. Somehow, the asinine perfection reminded him of his mother.

Harry spoke just as Lily raised a hand to knock on the front door, startling both adults. Sirius had been paying attention to anything but his godson, struggling to hide how out of place he felt, but this wasn't a question he could ignore.

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?"

Lily paled slightly, and the innocent words hung in the air for several more tense moments than they should have been allowed to. Youthful green eyes studied Sirius hopefully.

"Yes."

Breathing was almost impossible.

"Ah, were I you, I'd hope the opposite. So tell me why you fight."

"Why do you care?"

"Consider it friendly conversation."

It was an odd memory for the moment, and Sirius forced his mind free from it without shaking his head. He was getting better at that, these days. Not better at forgetting--will that ever be possible?--but better at pretending. And he'd always been good at play-acting.

Lily's green eyes had suddenly found his, and Sirius sighed for effect. "I'm going to try to stop him, anyway," he amended. Or die in the process.

Harry started to speak, but the door swung open, revealing a bony woman and a very fat boy. Sirius felt like he'd never seen either of them before, but both were recognizable enough, even had that been the truth. The years, he decided immediately, had not been kind to Petunia Evans.

Petunia Dursley, these days.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped angrily, going red in the face. The boy just looked confused, then frowned and returned his attention to the chocolate bar in his left hand.

"Hello, Petunia," Lily replied quietly. She no longer looked uneasy, of course--under pressure, Lily never did. Even so, Sirius could see the old pain rise in her eyes, and he wished that James was here to help her. This wasn't a time that she needed a friend. She smiled the old soft smile. "May we come in?"

"No!"

"Mum?" The boy looked up at her, confused by her vehement reply.

Immediately, the bony face transformed from anger to something that bordered on utterly idyllic love. "Don't worry, Dudleykins," Petunia said with a smile. "They're just some strangers who--"

"She said your name, Mum," Dudleykins pointed out. Maybe he's not as dumb as I thought.

"Yes, well, she is a stranger now," Petunia snapped. "Go inside!"

Dudleykins gave her a strange look, clearly not accustomed to discipline from his mother, and trudged into the house. Over Petunia's shoulder, Sirius could hear him shouting something about a broken Playstation and the stupid boy down the street, whining with the obnoxious certainty of a boy who always got his way. Reminds me of Regulus. Lily's sister whirled on them the moment her son was out of earshot.

"I don't know what you're doing here, and I don't care about the message you left!" she hissed. "Just get out of here and never come back! You've already ruined my life once, and I won't have it again!"

Lily did not twitch. "I need your help, Petunia," she said softly. "Please."

--------------

"It's done."

Remus sighed and did not bother turning around to face his deputy headmaster. He could hear the stymied frustration in Snape's voice, and knew that venting his disappointment and anger on him would be useless, not to mention unfair. Severus deserved better, and it wasn't really his fault, anyway. But a giant injustice had been done, and Remus had played an entirely too large part in it.

By arranging it. He bit back the need to groan and shook his head instead.

"Flint doesn't know?"

"Of course he doesn't," Severus replied in a slightly chastising--and rather typically sarcastic--tone. "You know me better than that."

"And what will become of him?" There were some questions that Remus didn't particularly want to know the answer to, but the leader of the Order of the Phoenix could ill afford to be squeamish.

"He failed." To his right now, Severus shrugged. "Capture is not encouraged--death is preferable, as you well know. However, his escape ought to save his life, after sufficient punishment."

Sufficient punishment. Remus took a calculated deep breath. "And you?"

"I will live."

"You always live, Severus." The nonchalance in his friend's reply brought Remus' head around, and he stared at the other with annoyance. Irritation. Worry.

"Does anything else matter?" Snape replied seriously. "At this point?"

"No." He had to close his eyes. "I guess not."

"Facilitating Flint's escape should counteract my saving Potter's life," the other replied after a long moment, and Remus opened his eyes. "I should survive relatively unscathed, and he will not doubt my loyalty."

Yet.

Neither of them said the word, but they knew it was coming. Yet. The time of choice was fast approaching.

--------------

"And who is this?" Petunia demanded, gesturing angrily.

They were inside now, which he supposed was a victory of sorts. The fat little boy, Dudleykins, was watching the trio of wizards over his chocolate pop with wide eyes, clearly wondering what his darling Mummy was going on about. The fat father, however--who had gotten far larger since the one time Sirius had met him, over thirteen years ago--was glaring at Lily with a blatant hatred that would have made James want to outright kill the bigoted bastard. Good things Prongs isn't here, then, Sirius thought distractedly. Though, it's not really like I'm much better.

Worse, these days. I've fewer morals to stop me.

The thought made him swallow hard, and Sirius hoped that no one noticed. Lily was answering: "I'm surprised you don't remember him, Petunia. He was at our wedding."

"I'm Sirius Black." Sirius nodded to her in what he hoped was a polite manner, trying to ignore Vernon Dursley's rabid stare.

"Oh, you," she snapped in a manner that made it entirely too clear that she didn't remember him, but was trying to pretend she did. Either way, she didn't like someone she knew to be a wizard, and Sirius found the attitude oddly exhausting. Funny how such prejudices exist on both sides of the war, he reflected. Voldemort hates Muggles for having no magic, and she hates use for having it. Somehow, however, he didn't think that the Dark Lord would find the contrast amusing.

Though one never really did know with him.

He managed a smile. "Yes, me." The glare from Lily indicated that she didn't appreciate his sarcasm, but it seemed to fly right over Petunia's head. Good riddance, then.

"What are you doing here?" Lily's Muggle sister retorted.

"I'm here as a friend."

"You're no friend of mine!"

"No, I'm not," he replied, biting back something more suitable. Damn his temper for wanting to come out of the cage he'd constructed--"But I am Lily's friend, and Harry's godfather. Besides, our world isn't exactly safe these days."

"And you're bringing that danger here?" Dursley snapped, gesturing angrily. Did the entire family talk with their hands?

Lily sighed. "No, we aren't. If we're right, nothing will happen at all--"

"Because we aren't taking your brat in!" the fat man bellowed.

--------------

"He hasn't even come to see you, has he?"

She sighed. "He has been slightly busy, Lucius."

"Fine actions for a man in love," he drawled, crossing his arms and looking down at her. Damn him if he wasn't always doing that--but then again, on a more dispassionate day and in a less irritated moment, she might have granted him the privileges belonging to an older sibling. But only if he stops trying to run my life. Then I might listen to his advice.

"Practical and intelligent actions, you mean," she retorted, meeting his gray eyes easily. She had years of practice, and had never really learned to back down.

Lucius sighed instead of glaring back. Slowly, he slumped against the wall, wrinkling his immaculate silver robes. Had he moved any faster, Julia would have thought the move to be premeditated, but she knew him better than that. Rarely did Lucius Malfoy show any type of worry, and when he did so, it was always reluctantly. He liked being impenetrable too much.

"I thought I told you not to come back," he finally said, his handsome face tightening.

Julia nodded. "You did," she replied softly. "But family never walks away."

"He is not your family," her brother snapped.

"Not yet," she admitted, then smiled despite herself. A part of him understands, even if he does deny it. But even Lucius has not forgotten how to hope. "But someday...he might be."

He stared at her as if her hair had suddenly turned maroon and gold, opening his mouth to object and then closing it when no sound emerged. Slowly, Lucius' eyes slid shut, and she watched conflicting emotions war across his face for almost a minute. No, he had not forgotten hope--but he had not forgotten war, either. "Be careful, sister mine," he finally whispered. "Be very careful."

--------------

Harry looked around the room and sighed, trying to hide his disappointment. His mother and Sirius had won the argument, of course, because no one in their right mind tried to reason with Lily Potter for long. Nor did anyone in their right mind try to threaten Sirius Black--one was just as stupid as the other. Harry's mum could argue her way into or out of anything, and Sirius could just look at you with those dead blue eyes and make you believe that it was just far less painful to do it his way.

So the Dursleys had given in, and Harry was now staying with an aunt and uncle who he'd met only once before, and with a troll-sized cousin whose only hobby seemed to be eating. Secretly, Harry suspected that Dudley was about as intelligent as a troll, too, if not less so. He'd certainly never learned to wipe his face.

And he'd never learned about magic, either. All three Dursleys had almost keeled over and died when Sirius had pulled his wand out, and the Auror's use of a tickling spell on Dudley had sent Aunt Petunia into a nervous fit. She'd been convinced that her baby was dying, and it hadn't helped when Sirius had laughed, either. Harry's mum had mostly smoothed that one over, and had convinced the Dursleys to take Harry in while Sirius had stood there and stared. She'd wisely pointed out that Harry wasn't the target: his father was, and they only wanted to save Harry from being caught in the crossfire.

The story wasn't exactly true, but Remus had already made Harry promise not to tell the Dursleys what happened. He wouldn't have promised if he'd had his way, of course, but Sirius had pulled Harry aside and shared cold and hard truth that Harry had never considered.

"And what happens when he catches you, Harry?" the Auror asked, his blue eyes frighteningly bright. Harry swallowed.

"I thought he wanted me dead," he tried to object, but the words came out woodenly.

"He does. But he wants your father more."

He glared. "I know that."

"So what happens when he captures you to use against your father? Do you think that your dad would do anything less than sacrifice his life to save yours?"

"But he couldn't--"

"Couldn't what? Refuse to save you? You're right there, Harry." Those blue eyes were watching him closely, still burning oddly but compassionate at the same time. The two emotions seemed to be a contradiction, but Harry could see the concern on Sirius' face.

"But he's the Minister of Magic!"

A long heartbeat passed as Sirius peered into his eyes. "So?"

"He's--he'd--he couldn't..." Somehow, that look broke what nothing else could, and Harry transitioned from child to young adult in those few seconds. He could see the weight Sirius carried, the burden of hope that he'd shouldered. Abruptly, he realized that his parents bore the same weight, fought the same battles. They'd been doing it for years, been fighting to save the world he was busy growing up in. And they'd never complained. Never stopped from doing what had to be done.

"And he would," Sirius said quietly, his voice hardly louder than a ragged whisper. "You know he would. He loves you too much not to."

"That doesn't mean he should," Harry whispered, suddenly hoarse.

"Tell him that." For all the harshness in the reply,, the voice was oddly gentle.

Harry couldn't. They both knew that.

"I'll go," he finally whispered. "I'll go."

"So here I am," he muttered to himself, staring at the blank walls and sighing. The room was so empty, and he hadn't really brought much with him: just some homework and enough Muggle clothes for eleven or twelve days. He hated wearing Muggle clothes, too; Harry was so used to the flowing and sweeping feeling of wearing every day work robes that it felt funny to wear just what he thought of as underclothes. Yet there he was, wearing Muggle clothes and sitting in a Muggle house. Better yet, he was being ignored by his "family," and his cousin was a newt. There was absolutely nothing to do.

An hour into his "vacation" and he was bored out of his mind.

--------------

It had started with an explosion, and she'd been damned lucky to even get that much warning. She was sure that they hadn't meant to provide the warning, but something had gone wrong--though she doubted that she'd ever know what, and really didn't care, when it all came down to the facts. All that mattered was that the bastards were there, now, and she'd never really thought this might happen, for all her brave words.

In another life, Hermione might have chastised herself for such language, but that life had died when the boom reverberated throughout the Granger household and told her that Draco Malfoy made good his threats. The Death Eaters had come.

Hold for a few more moments, she pleaded silently with the wards that Headmaster Lupin had constructed out of what she'd thought was pure paranoia. Just a few more moments. Her wand felt slippery in her hand, and truthful witch that she was, Hermione knew that came from her own sweat. She had no idea what she was doing, no idea even how many of them there were outside, but she had to protect her family. Somehow.

"Ron," she whispered urgently, her head half in the fire and half out. Hermione didn't know if Fire Calling was supposed to work that way, but it had to tonight. "Please be there--" Crash. Someone or something was pounding on the door, surprised to find it magically warded. It cracked and shuddered, almost ready to give. "Oh, my God. Ron, be there. Someone--"

"Ron!" Hermione hissed. She didn't dare shout; she'd gotten her parents down into the basement, but the Death Eaters thought that the family was sleeping, and she only had seconds before they were through the door and could see her right there. "Help!"

"Hermione?"

Red haired, blue eyed, and with a ponytail frizzing out over his right shoulder, in that moment, Bill Weasley was the sweetest sight she had ever seen. Puzzled eyes studied her worriedly. "What's--?"

"There are Death Eaters!" she gasped desperately. "Here! They're--"

"I'll be right there." His face closed up, and then he was gone, leaving Hermione gaping in his wake and wishing that any other head would appear in the Weasley family fireplace. But no one came, prompting her to shout again, just a little louder this time. Bill couldn't try to face all those Death Eaters alone...could he?

Crunch.

The door gave way.

--------------

There was no where to go save Avalon, but with seconds to spare and a family in danger, Bill knew he didn't have time to arrive in an Apparation point, negotiate the doors, and then find help. Even Tonks was at home, with her family, and though he could contact his protégée in a moment, one Mentor and student wouldn't do much good against whatever attacked the Granger household.

For a moment, the Auror wanted to kick himself for not asking how many they were--or even if she faced Death Eaters. But the wildly determined look in Hermione's eyes had told Bill that she didn't know, and he didn't have time to waste on questions.

No time for anything.

Bill sprinted out the door without even a word to his family--they could not help, and Ron would insist on coming. He'd end getting in the way, or worse--or dying--and Bill could not afford to explain. No time. He'd heard the banging on the door, and was willing to bet that it was breaking by now. Or broken, already. The worst might have already come.

His wand snapped up, and he Apparated to the only place he could think of going, praying that he wouldn't find an empty house and doom Hermione because he'd guessed wrong. But there was one person who could be counted upon to face a group of Death Eaters on his own, and he wasn't on Avalon tonight. Tonight, Bill headed for Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.

The front lights came on before his eyes had even adjusted to the difference between the Burrow and the still-dark street. The door opened before Bill managed to take two steps, and he could see the darkness that indicated the place where the ebony wand blended into the night.

--------------

Hermione ducked. There wasn't time to do anything else, and she hoped that the couch might shield her from the flying debris. It didn't, really; she was still pelted by door fragments as they flew by, but at least it hid her. For the moment.

She heard whispered voices, followed by a grunt.

"Check upstairs."

"Contain that thing."

"Watch your back--you never know what other surprises Lupin might have secreted away. I recognized his signature on the wards."

A harsh laugh. "For a man who's supposed to be brilliant, he didn't do a very good job on those, did he?"

The grunt came again, louder and more insistent this time. Somehow, the raw sound made a chill run down Hermione's spine. The second voice spoke again, snapping: "Will you watch that thing? It's drooling all over me--"

"Shut up, Moon."

"Enough, both of you!" the first voice drawled, with just enough of an edge to say that he snapped. "Moon, Bletchley, go upstairs and go quietly. Flint, you're with me."

Another grunt, this one more of a growl. Lucius Malfoy--she'd have known that voice anywhere--continued. "And Bletchley, contain your creature first. We wouldn't want it eating the Grangers and spoiling our sport, now, would we?"

Shuffling and a long moment of silence followed. She heard footsteps move to her right, into the kitchen, and hoped that Malfoy and Flint had gone that way, but hadn't gone into the basement. Another low and angry grunt cut through the empty room, and Hermione could hear Bletchley whispering and Moon grumbling under her breath. The noise definitely wasn't human, though she couldn't identify what it came from; Hermione had never heard anything like this before. Finally, unable to contain her curiosity, she snuck her eyes up over the edge of the couch, clinging to her wand with slippery fingers.

She barely had a chance to see the troll before Moon spun around. "There she is!"

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione screeched, using the first spell that came to mind--and the first one that any Hogwarts students learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Even before theory, they learned that disarming your opponent was often the best way to win a fight: to end conflict before it could start.

Unfortunately, that didn't work this time. It only made the Death Eaters laugh.

Red light whizzed over her head and made Hermione dive behind the couch once more, and she could hear Moon laughing her gravely laugh. I am going to get myself killed! Hermione raged at herself. I knew better than to stick my head up! More spells split the air and the wall behind her cracked and splattered all over the room, spraying the couch with fragments of plaster. She cringed, covering her head desperately, and heard the Death Eaters amicably discussing how they would finish her off.

Her heart pounded in her ears as if it wanted to overheat and then stop entirely, and purple light made the ceiling rattle.

"Coming out, little girl?" Moon taunted her. "Or do you want to be crushed?"

"Or perhaps we ought to send our little friend after her!" Bletchley howled in laughter, shooting a random spell in her direction. Hermione covered her head to avoid another shower of plaster.

The Death Eaters congratulated each other, and another moan came from the doorway.

"Get yourself together, Hermione!" she snapped at herself, half under her breath. "This isn't the worst that could happen."

"Oh, it definitely isn't!" Bletchley sniggered, obviously having heard her. "But we'll leave that for when you're in the Dark Lord's han--"

"Engorgio!" Hermione shouted, popping her head up again and aiming quickly.

"Look out!" Moon screeched, but did not move to help her companion.

Bletchley barely moved in time; the spell hit the edge of his cloak and immediately made it balloon up in size--but just one end of the cloak kept growing, until Moon impatiently hexed it with something far darker than a counter charm.

"Stop fooling around and get to work!" she snarled. "We've wasted enough time already. Just have your pet grab the girl so we can--"

The screaming started in the basement.

"--get out of here and deliver her to the brat."

"Don't let Malfoy hear you call his son that," Bletchley commented absently as Hermione shifted position so she could peer around the end of the couch. Malfoy's son? What does Draco want with me...?

You hit him, you silly girl. Of course he wants to hurt you, an inner voice pointed out as Hermione shivered. It sounded oddly like Snape, but had to be correct. Why else would Death Eaters have targeted her family?

The source of the screaming sank in even as that thought registered. Her parents were hiding in the basement.

My parents!

It was all Hermione could do to keep herself from jumping to her feet and rushing both Death Eaters--but she had to think, for Merlin's sake. Think, Hermione, think! Her hands were shaking even worse than before. Her parents were screaming, and she thought she heard Malfoy laughing. The bastard! He can't even strike back at me--he has to use his evil father to do his dirty work! The next time she saw Draco Malfoy, she was going to kill him. No questions asked. Delicate Little Draco was going to die.

Act, Hermione! She screamed at herself, and edged her wand around the end of the couch. Moon and Bletchley were arguing again--something about delivering her family--and she only had one chance.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Hermione bellowed, aiming for Moon--she certainly seemed to be the smarter of the two.

The Death Eater fell with a thud, and Hermione resisted the urge to cheer. Just three more to go, and I can do this. Right? She swallowed hard, and--

"Stupefy!" Bletchley wasn't very creative, but Hermione barely managed to roll out of the way in time. Before she could even come to her senses, though, the Death Eater had turned to face her again, and the troll was moving. Oh, no. The troll was stomping towards her.

"Stupef--" Hermione never got the chance to finish.

"Diffindo!" Bletchley shouted, and suddenly the couch was in two pieces...with Hermione right between them. Frozen, she could only manage to stare stupidly at the split cushions, wondering how that had happened without splitting her in half.

Giant hands closed around her, and Hermione did the only sensible thing for the moment, even though it wouldn't do any good. She screeched.

And screeched.

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