Promises Remembered

Promises Remembered

The Sequel to Promises Unbroken

Chapter Thirteen: Lonely Roads

11:36.

The street was quiet, peaceful. All the good Muggles were undoubtedly sleeping in their beds or watching their useless televisions in order to fry their already over-entertained brains. The automobiles that lined the streets were silent and cold, still and forgotten. Late night meant all the working Muggles had come for the day, fat, dumb, and happy. They were complacent little Muggles, settled into their ordinary lives, and had no idea what had just arrived on their street. The idiots were quite satisfied with their ignorance, content to remain blinded. Except for one--in one house, the residents were anything but Muggles.

They, unlike the others, would be waiting.

Footsteps sounded soft on warm concrete. His Death Eaters had been testing the wards for a quarter of an hour, yet there were not chinks in this armor--Bella had wasted her chance. The subtle openings of before had been crafted with care, meticulously worked into the first set of wards, and made invisible by using the magical defenses of Grimmauld Place against themselves. It should have been simple--a willingly opened door would have torn all the defenses down and allowed a lightning strike to kill all those inside. And he had trusted Bellatrix to accomplish that important mission, trusted her to fulfill a vow he had made.

Failure, as even Bella had learned, was painful.

"We will have them within an hour, My Lord," Lucius Malfoy's silky voice said at his elbow.

11:38.

The man who had been Tom Riddle fingered his wand contemplatively, briefly considering hexing his servant simply to remind him of his place. But Lucius was useful, and doing so was not worth the distraction. Besides, Death Eaters were noisy fools, and stealth was of the essence.

However, Lucius Malfoy was also not a fool, and was intelligent enough to interpret his master's silence as annoyance. The senior Death Eater bowed his head. "Forgive my impudence, Master."

Voldemort let him stew for a moment, ignoring the apology and studying Number 12, Grimmauld Place from behind impassive features. It was an ancient house, one he knew well, and it was the ancestral home of a family whose members had served him very well. Yet it was also the home of one who had defied him for too long, who sheltered those he meant to kill. Grimmauld Place now existed in defiance of tradition, and that would not do.

"An hour is not acceptable, Lucius."

Malfoy hesitated for barely a heartbeat, but the Dark Lord sensed his fear. Lucius was not accustomed to failure, even less so than Bella--but like the others, he could still fear the consequences. He hid it well, but not well enough.

"We shall hurry, Master," he said quickly.

Voldemort snorted. "No. You will not."

"My Lord?"

Any other moment, he might have savored Lucius' sudden terror--but not now. They had not an hour to spare, and his loyal but imprecise followers had not the power to press. The Dark Lord turned to look at his lieutenant with a cold smile.

"There is no need." His eyes narrowed. "I will do so."

11:40.

He stretched out his senses, wand in hand. Unexpectedly, he felt another mind reach out to meet his own, yet--he was not truly surprised. He had known that tonight would bring opportunities, and this was one contest that had been put aside for too long.

A simple spell tested the wards, and he was not surprised when it was pushed aside. The defenses were powerful, yes...but not strong enough. Nothing was, given enough time and power, both of which he had in abundance. Twenty minutes was more than enough, and they would learn.

Defiance would not be tolerated, and Lord Voldemort did not forget.

Lucius and the others had been fools. They had withdrawn each failed spell and cast another, hoping to find the one simple form of magic that worked. But they did not understand power, or how to layer magic and build strength. They approached magic conventionally, the fools. Yet he was above that, beyond that. Lord Voldemort did not play with simple magic. He did not obey conventional rules.

Instead, he stretched out further and expanded the spell, letting the power build and build upon itself. It would not be long, even when he felt another power reach out to counter his own. Black was just a fool, soon to be a dead fool. No one crossed Lord Voldemort and survived to do so again--and there were few stupid enough to even try. He might have respected the irrational courage that the other showed, though, if it were not so misplaced.

He was finished playing. It was time.

11:41.

Voldemort reached out once more, readying himself for the final strike. Black was ready, but the weak fool could never be ready enough. Darkness swirled around him, and he embraced it, shaped it, struck--

And something in his mind screamed a warning before the final second, yet it was too late. His knees buckled, and the world went dark.

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

"You're up late," a voice suddenly said, startling Remus out of his reverie. He'd been wandering around the Hogwarts grounds, mentally connected with the school and looking at the defenses that generations of headmasters had created and adding his own. Although it was only the first of August, he knew that there was very little time before the school year started...and once that happened, Hogwarts would become a target. Voldemort had claimed the Wizarding Prison seven years before. He had destroyed the Ministry of Magic just a few months previously. To the frightened public, he seemed likely to rule everything within just another year...except for Hogwarts. Hogwarts he had never cracked. Hogwarts, he had tried to take once--and failed.

Dumbledore had stopped him, but now Dumbledore was dead. He would try again.

"Hello, Severus," Remus turned, smiling. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"I didn't expect to come here, either," his deputy headmaster admitted with a shrug. His hands, Remus noticed, were buried in the pockets of his black robes, and Snape's shoulders were slightly hunched, relaxed. It was a posture that the students never saw from him, and one that it had taken Remus years to earn the right to see. Severus Snape trusted very few, and Remus was honored to be on that short list. "But it's a good place to think."

"That it is," the headmaster agreed quietly. "I was checking the wards. Would you like to walk with me?"

"Why not?" Snape shrugged again, and for several long moments, they walked in companionable silence. Had anyone told Remus, all those years ago, that he would become friends with Severus Snape, he would have told that idiot that they were crazy. Yet even James had landed on amicable terms with Snape, and Sirius tolerated him much better than anyone had expected. Peter, on the other hand, seemed to understand Snape better than the rest of them combined, which Remus thought was probably related to the paths they had both chosen...and forsaken. Their generation had started out so innocently, pranking and joking and hating without thought...now, though, they were all intimates of darkness.

And the road they traveled was far from over. Far from over.

"How have you been?" Remus asked as they walked past the lake.

"Well enough," came the dry reply. But then a trace of wistfulness entered Snape's voice. "As usual, I cannot wait for the holidays to be over. It's easier here."

"Yes." Remus did not need to ask; he knew the difference. During the summer, Severus was a Death Eater, and spent his life fulfilling the role that he had once relished and was now obligated to play. But come September, he could retreat from all that, even if only slightly, and live in a different world.

Year after year, he had played this game. It has to eat at him, Remus thought quietly, knowing that to be true. For longer than Remus had taught at Hogwarts, Snape had been Dumbledore's spy, the highest ranking Death Eater to ever turn to the Order of the Phoenix, and the only one to survive for so long. Yet Snape struck a delicate balance, and he had been doing so for over twelve years. Sooner or later, something would have to give.

"I was thinking," Severus said in an obvious attempt to change the subject, "about the Order, actually."

"What about?"

"The Inner Circle has been maimed, Remus," his deputy said quietly. "Isn't it time that we formed a new one?"

"The Sixth Circle?" the headmaster echoed quietly, sighing. He was worried, too, but... "I wish we could."

"What?" Snape turned to stare at him.

"I wish we could," Remus repeated. "Fawkes refuses to. I don't know why."

"But he's..."

"Yeah." Remus bit his lip, and shrugged helplessly. "Maybe Dumbledore could have convinced him, but I don't know how. Every time I ask, he adamantly refuses...he's flown away several times, as if to prove his point. He comes back a day later, of course, but Fawkes is clearly saying no. Not now."

"This is a rather inconvenient time for that damn bird to get finicky," Snape said dryly.

"Tell me about it."

"So, what then? Do we wait?" the other asked, and Remus thought that he heard unease in his voice, but could not be certain.

"I guess we have to," the headmaster swallowed. "But I would like to bring the Circle together. I think we need to."

"I agree," Snape replied immediately, and there was no uncertainty in his brisk voice now. Perhaps Remus had been imagining it. "When and where?"

"In two days, on August third," Remus told him. "At Grimmauld Place."

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

It was a perfectly nondescript house in a perfectly nondescript neighborhood on the outskirts of Muggle Pembroke. The sheer normality of it was probably what had saved them--that, and perhaps a bit of lingering sentimentality on the part of Narcissa Malfoy, who might remember what family meant. But not Bellatrix. Sirius acquitted Trixie from feeling those 'weaker' feelings.

Then again, he acquitted her of feeling anything at all, so that wasn't much of a surprise.

Sirius headed up the front walk, pausing briefly to watch a group of Muggle kids play hide and seek down at the other end of the street. The early afternoon sun was just sort of blistering hot, but large trees on either side of the street provided ample shade. All the big lawns were well tended, with pretty flowers lining each walk, but for all the trimmed trees and pruned grass, the street looked lived in and normal. It was all comfortingly normal, in fact--discarded toys lay forgotten amidst the roses and an uncoiled hose stretched across one lawn like a bright green snake.

But even that image could not mar the illusion of perfection. These homes were evidence of summers that he would like to remember, not of the sort that he had lived. A wistful smile tried to twist his lips out of shape at that thought, but there was little regret in his mind. Only distant longing was present, and Sirius knew that wasn't real. Birds sang and children laughed joyously, carelessly. They had no worries during this perfect summer holiday, nothing to worry about at all. The beautiful and peaceful normality would have bored Sirius to death.

The doorknocker, he noticed, was shaped like a brass raven, and that did make him smile. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Their Muggle neighbors undoubtedly thought that the Tonks had just chosen the raven because it was a pretty bird. It was probably a common enough doorknocker, and even it if wasn't, there were plenty of stranger things on Muggle houses these days. Sirius, on the other hand, acknowledged the compromise evident in the raven-shaped doorknocker on a Muggle door. The Tonks might hide, but they would not forget.

Knock, knock.

Within a few short seconds the door flew open, and Sirius found himself face to face with a black-haired and blue-eyed boy of about eight.

"Hi," the boy said, grinning. His brilliant blue eyes were glowing, and made Sirius' heart wrench in an unexpected way. The boy had the classic Black features, from hair, to eyes, to high cheekbones and a small nose. But was I ever that innocent?

Still, if Sirius had ever thought to wonder if he'd found the right house, there was no doubting that now. Andromeda's youngest child was plainly a classical Black in the way that his older sister would never be. The trusting expression was the only departure from the perfect old mold--this boy was almost too happy, almost too carefree. He would not have fit in with his mother's brooding generation, or with those whom his grandparents would have praised as a fine example of everything that a pureblooded wizard should be. Yet he might fit in with the next generation...Sirius surprised himself by needing to swallow. If I ever have a son, will he look like this?

"Hello," he finally managed to reply around the lump in his throat. "My name is Sirius. I'm looking for your mother."

"I'm Patroclus, Patroclus Tonks. But everyone just calls me Pat." Again, the blinding smile, and Patroclus stuck out a fearless hand for Sirius to shake. Despite himself, the older wizard chuckled as the boy turned and shouted over his shoulder.

"Mum! Door!" Then he looked back at Sirius, his eyes shining with troublesome glee. "Mum always says not to let strangers in the house, but you look okay."

But Sirius shook his head before Patroclus could step aside. "I think that I'd best wait," he said quietly.

"Who is it, Pat?" a new voice asked--a male voice. A second later, Sirius found himself face to face with the sandy brown hair and green eyes of Ted Tonks, who he had not seen since Nymphadora's first birthday, so many years before. Immediately, the green eyes widened to the size of double-thickness bottomed cauldrons, and the Muggleborn wizard blinked slowly, staring at his visitor with undisguised surprise.

Sirius was careful to keep his hands in the open, held empty and far away from sleeves or pockets that might hide a wand. He waited, well aware that one wrong move might lead to his being mistaken for the wrong Black. Such was the consequence of being the sole white sheep in the Black family tree--his aristocratic relatives had never made themselves popular with Muggleborn wizards. Especially Muggleborns like Ted Tonks, who dared to marry deviant pureblood witches.

However, Ted's face quickly split into an unexpected smile. "Sirius Black!" the other exclaimed. "I didn't expect to see you on my doorstep. Come in, please!"

"Hello, Ted," Sirius managed to say, blinking. "I didn't expect you to remember me so quickly."

"Of course I recognize you," Andromeda's husband grinned, opening the door wider. "Who wouldn't?"

For a split second, Sirius floundered, not comprehending a word of what his cousin-in-law meant. Then, he smiled sheepishly, resisting the urge to slap himself. Of course. For better or for worse, his face had been slapped on too many front pages of The Daily Prophet for anyone to mistake Sirius for someone else. Not now, anyway... Stark reality intervened with the assumed normality of the situation. Not ever, now.

"Oh, right." The reply sounded wooden even to his own ears.

"What brings you here, anyway?" Ted asked as Sirius stepped inside, closing the door behind the Auror.

"I was hoping to talk to Andromeda, actually," Sirius admitted. "Is she home?"

Ted nodded. "She's upstairs." He turned to look at his son. "Will you go ask your Mum to come downstairs, Pat?"

"Sure!" The boy bolted off, taking the stairs two at a time, and for a moment, Sirius caught himself staring wistfully at Patroclus' retreating back. What's gotten into me today? he wondered, shaking off the feeling and following Ted into a spacious kitchen. What am I missing? But he knew the answer, even though it burned.

Life. A normal and everyday life.

"You can sit down if you want," Ted said, suddenly uneasy. His initial exuberance had faded, and Sirius could see thoughts racing behind his intelligent green eyes. Ted was anything but a fool, and he was well aware of who was standing in his half-Muggle, half-Wizarding kitchen, and knew that Sirius would not have come without reason.

"Thank you," Sirius responded lightly, dropping into the offered chair at the kitchen table. He wished that Andromeda would just show up, but until then he needed to ease Ted's nerves. Obviously, Andromeda hadn't heard when Patroclus called her the first time, or maybe she'd just been busy--either way, Sirius was stuck with Ted, who clearly didn't know what to do with him. He tried a slight smile on for size. "So, how old is Pat?"

"Almost nine," the proud father replied with the expected smile. "We always wished that we'd had another child after Nymphadora, and then we realized that there was no reason why we couldn't."

"He seems like a bright boy." Sirius hated small talk, and sincerely hoped that Ted was feeling more comfortable than he was.

"Oh, he is. Damnably so, sometimes." Ted grinned. "He's a bit too trusting, of course--as you've already seen--but he probably gets that from me. I'm nowhere near as naturally suspicious as you Blacks."

Sirius chuckled before Ted could start to worry if he felt insulted. "Most people aren't," he replied easily. "Fortunately."

"Sirius!"

He bounced to his feet as his cousin's surprised exclamation filled the kitchen. Andromeda stood framed in the doorway, as brown-haired, blue-eyed, and Black-featured as ever, and the years hadn't added any stress lines to her face that her horrible sisters hadn't etched into it years ago. Sirius immediately stepped forward to hug her and plant a kiss on Andromeda's cheek, but though she smiled, there was a distance between them that had never been there before. Extremely conscious of that coldness, Sirius spoke softly.

"Hello, Droma."

She pulled back to look him in the eye; Andromeda had always been brisk and businesslike. "What brings you here?"

Her words were an unconscious echo of what he had said to Narcissa three weeks before, and Sirius had to force a smile. What's happened to us? he wondered painfully. Did we grow and change so much? Then an unbidden thought added itself to the empty feeling he felt.

Or did I?

Still, he had to answer. "Aside from the sheer happiness of a family reunion?" he smiled crookedly. "I've seen Cissa and Trixie lately, so it only seemed appropriate to visit you."

His favorite cousin laughed. "I bet that was fun!" Then Andromeda sobered. "She hates it when you call her Trixie, you know."

"Of course she does," Sirius replied with a shrug. "That's why I do."

"You always have enjoyed courting danger, Sirius," she replied without smiling.

"Enjoyed? No." He sighed, wishing that the conversation hadn't turned serious so quickly. "Understood the necessity of doing so? Yes."

Her blue eyes, so like his own, turned immediately wary; Droma understood the undertones in his voice all too well. "And that's why you're here."

It wasn't a question, and an uneasy silence filled the room. Sirius only gazed at his cousin, hoping that she'd meet his eyes and knowing that she would not. Instead, Andromeda stared at the refrigerator, a frown marring her pretty features. She knew enough to guess his purpose, and this wasn't the reaction Sirius had hoped for...no matter how much he had expected it. Finally, Ted cleared his throat.

"Why don't we sit down?" he asked quietly, making Sirius smile nostalgically. Ted had always been a peacemaker, even back when there hadn't been any peace to make. As if that has changed at all.

Chairs scratched across the floor, and soon the uneasy trio was seated around the kitchen table. Patroclus hadn't come down with his mother, which made Sirius guess that Andromeda had probably told him not to...she was, after all, anything but stupid. There was another uncomfortable silence while Sirius tried to figure out what to say and found himself uncharacteristically silent. Just once, he thought quietly, I wish that I could talk to Droma like normal cousins might, not with this wall between us that the Black family tradition has created. Even she and I, the 'unacceptable' members of the family, cannot. Then again, even normal Blacks weren't normal.

"I know this is more than just a social call, Sirius," Droma finally said. "Even though I am glad to see you. It's good to see you looking well after everything that's...happened."

A wan smile banished his darker thoughts. "Thanks. It is good to see you, cousin," Sirius replied. "And I'm sorry that I haven't been in touch since Azkaban. Things have just been, well, busy."

"Oh, really?" For a moment, her eyes danced. "I can't imagine why."

"Nor I." Sirius chuckled, too, but the moment did not last. In reality, it could not. So he shrugged before Droma had to ask again. "I ran into Nymphadora three days ago."

"At Gringotts?" his cousin asked immediately, making Sirius start. He almost repeated the name of the Wizarding bank, but the sudden flash of knowledge in Ted's eyes made him force any expression off of his face.

"Yeah, at Gringotts," Sirius lied seamlessly. "We talked for a bit, and it made me think..." He trailed off and allowed himself a small sigh, wondering how this had managed to happen. Droma didn't know. She has no idea that her daughter is training to become an Auror.

A chill wormed its way down his spine, yet Ted's eyes thanked him for telling the lie. This was not what Sirius had expected--but Andromeda was watching him, waiting, so he shrugged off the discomfort and continued.

"Between that and Cissa showing up on my doorstep three weeks ago, I started thinking about you," he said, and watched Droma's eyebrows rise. Sirius clarified, "and thinking about the war."

"Oh?"

Her voice gave nothing away, and Sirius sighed, holding his sudden irritation back with an effort. "Yes," he replied quietly. "About the war. And about where you stand in it."

One dark brown eyebrow rose, and it said legions. "I would think that has become clear over the years, Sirius," she replied impassively. "I have too many family members on both sides to choose between them."

"It can't always be that way, Droma." Sirius tried to keep his voice gentle, but he knew that he failed.

"And why do you say that?" Andromeda challenged back, her voice sharp.

"There is going to come a time when everyone has to pick sides," he replied, keeping impatience out of his voice with an effort. "And that time is going to be soon. In a war like this, there is no middle ground, Droma. You're either with Voldemort or against him."

"Is that a threat, Sirius?" she asked with surprise, anger glinting in her blue eyes. "Are you saying that everyone who isn't with you is against you?"

"No, I'm not," he replied quietly, feeling cold inside. "And I'm not threatening you, Droma. I never would. But that's how Voldemort sees it. He doesn't respect neutrality."

"So far, he has," she retorted.

"Do you expect that to last forever?"

He hadn't meant the question to sound so challenging, but once said it was too late to take back. Andromeda's eyes flashed, but he saw her rein her temper back with an effort. Still, her words came out short and pinched off, as if she was struggling not to shout at him.

"We've made a good life for ourselves, Sirius. Heaven knows, I don't want him to succeed, but I have to think of my family first. So far, he hasn't remembered us, but if any one of us gets involved, that will change--and I won't have my husband or my children endangered simply because their blood isn't pure enough for him." The last sentence was a defiant snarl, thrown into his face to see what Sirius would make of it. Unfortunately, it was something he had heard far too many times...and seen the speakers of such words die, taking their hopes, and their families, with them.

"Voldemort won't ignore you forever. And he doesn't forget." Ted shuddered as Sirius said the dreaded name without blinking, but Sirius continued, feeling empty and cold. "You know that. I know that. It's time, Droma. I respect the fact that you want to protect your family, but you can't do that alone. Not anymore."

"Can't I?" she challenged, and he saw the famous Black temper burst free of its cage.

Sirius, however, was not angry. He only wished that he was. "And what will you do when the Death Eaters come?" he asked quietly. "Will you hope that Narcissa's influence will spare you just a little while longer, or Bellatrix might feel a moment of compassion for the first time in her life? Or will you watch as your husband dies because he's a Muggleborn, and then your children because they are tainted, and then you because you dared to be different? What will it be, Droma? Will you hide until they come, praying that they have forgotten, or will you do something to stop them before more innocents die?"

Andromeda stared at him, eyes wide with fury--and yes, with pain. His words had struck home, had outlined every one of her deepest fears. Sirius only wished that he could ease the hurt instead of increasing it.

"The time to choose is now, cousin," he said quietly. "You can't hide anymore."

But her eyes flashed again, and she stood, almost shaking with fury. "You," Droma spat, "cannot just waltz in here and ruin my life!"

"I'm not trying to ruin your life," Sirius said quietly. "Only to tell you the truth."

Andromeda straightened, and pointed a shaking hand at the door. But her voice was suddenly cold, and reminded Sirius of her sisters in ways that he would rathered not remembered. "Get out!"

He sighed, and rose, feeling his heart grow heavy in his chest. For all his light words about why he had started thinking about the Tonks, Sirius had come for more reasons than Narcissa's visit and Nymphadora's presence on Avalon. He had come because he knew that the Dark Lord would strike out soon, and knew that those blows would fall closer to home than he could possibly fear--for three days previously, Sirius had done the impossible, and he knew that there would be consequences. He only wished that those consequences could understand. Do you think I want to ruin your happiness, Droma? he wanted to ask. I wish that I could leave you alone and be certain of your safety.

But I would rather you be alive than be happy, cousin.

"He's right, Droma." Ted had been silent throughout the entire exchange, but now his hand lay gently on his wife's arm. "We can't hide anymore."

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