Rating:
PG-13
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter James Potter Ron Weasley Remus Lupin Sirius Black
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: 02/26/2003
Updated: 11/13/2003
Words: 164,724
Chapters: 41
Hits: 101,291

Promises Unbroken

RobinLady

Story Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world.

Chapter 07

Chapter Summary:
Sirius Black remained the Secret Keeper and everything he feared came to pass. Ten years later, James and Lily live, Harry attends Hogwarts, and Voldemort remains…welcome to a darker world where nothing is as it seems. {This Chapter: Midnight pranks, mistrust, and aftermath}
Posted:
04/04/2003
Hits:
2,417

Promises Unbroken

Chapter Seven: Repaying Debts

The fire call surprised her; Lily almost dropped her faded and cracked copy of Ancient and Olde Magics. Quickly, she looked up, only to see Severus Snape's face dancing in her fireplace. She smiled. "Severus! Did you finish my potion?"

"I need to talk to you, Lily." His pale face was drawn.

"Come on through, then." She knew Severus well enough to know that something was wrong. Her instincts were suddenly on fire, and Lily dropped Ancient and Olde Magics onto the coffee table, completely forgetting her newest project as her friend rolled gracefully out of the fire.

"Tell me James is here," Severus said immediately.

"No, he just left a half an hour ago," Lily replied, looking at him strangely. James and Severus might have learned to work together, but they'd never quite be friends.

He cursed. "Listen Lily, I don't have a lot of time. But James is walking into a trap."

"What?" She was on her feet.

"Do you know where he is?"

"No, I--"

Severus cut her off, speaking quickly. "London. A Muggle pub named the Bear's Paw. He's meeting Leora Baddock, who claims that she's willing to spy against the Dark Lord, but it's a trap. There'll be at least seven Death Eaters in the pub, and they mean to kill him."

"In a Muggle pub?" Lily's mind threatened to freeze. No, not James... Not James... "But it's noon...the place will be full of people."

"You ought to know by now, Lily, that Voldemort doesn't care," Severus replied harshly.

"What do I do?" She wasn't a warrior by nature, but her brain was working again.

"Go to Arabella. Tell her--I can't. It would look too suspicious. Blame it on whatever you want. She'll know."

Lily nodded quickly. She understood. Severus was taking incredible risks by coming to her--but going to Arabella Figg would have been a thousand times worse for him. He was a member of Voldemort's inner circle, a long-standing Death Eater from an ancient family whose roots were steeped in Dark magic; few would ever suspect the cruel and heartless Severus Snape as caring so much. The dangers, however, remained. The risks he had taken in the Order's name over the last eleven years were unbelievable, and yet here he was, taking another one. And this was for a man he didn't even like.

"Thank you, Severus," Lily said quietly. She'd never ask him why, but sometimes she wondered. A ghost of a smile fleeted across her friend's face, though, as he read her expression.

"We need him," Severus replied simply.

And then he was gone, pitching a handful of Floo Powder into the fireplace and returning to Hogwarts and classrooms full of students who would never understand the kind of man he truly was.

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

James Potter nursed a beer, tapping his fingers lightly against the glass. Baddock was late, but he tried to concentrate on his drink as if he didn't have another care in the world. Some of the Muggle brews were pretty good, he reflected, his eyes scanning the pub and looking for threats almost unconsciously. As the head of the Auror Division, he wasn't supposed to be in the field, but the war had stretched Aurors tight. There simply weren't many left, and besides, he knew Leora Baddock from his Hogwarts days. Then, she'd been in Ravenclaw and her last name had been Higgins (he'd even dated her, very briefly, in his fifth year). Now, though, her last name was Baddock, and she was married to Warren Baddock, who had apparently dragged her into Voldemort's circle several years before. According to the short letter she'd sent James, her love for her husband had kept her there for some time, but it was no longer enough.

Better late than never, I guess. He sighed. There were a million and one reasons why Leora might be late, most of which made innocent and perfect sense, but right now, none of them sat comfortably with him. His instincts, sharpened by years of chasing Death Eaters, were setting off alarms in his head. Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong. James glanced around the pub again, but saw nothing but Muggles out for a late lunch. He'd suggested the Bear's Paw as a meeting place because it was far away from Diagon Alley or any place that was even remotely magical; there was almost no chance of them being spotted together here, especially by Death Eaters, who hated anything Muggle. James, on the other hand, who had married a dreaded "Mudblood" witch, had acquired a comfort with Muggle technology over the years that he'd never expected to have. He had even gained a definite appreciation for Muggle clothing and beer. That, and he also had an understanding of the other culture that many of his colleagues lacked...which was why he almost always chose Muggle pubs as his meeting places with informants. He knew how to blend in.

But someone else didn't. Movement caught his eye, and James turned his head fractionally to the right. Without looking like he was doing so, the Auror studied the man in the far corner booth. Long hair simply wasn't in fashion in the Muggle world...and neither was the wand that protruded every so slightly out of the left side of the gray sport coat. The strange wizard's dark eyes flickered sideways, suddenly, and James saw him glance at another man--and he felt a chill run down his spine as a third set of eyes focused on him. Two more men entered the pub, then, and these James recognized. Death Eaters. And there was Leora, right behind the other two--he thought to shout out a warning, but when the first man nodded respectfully in her direction, James knew he'd been had. It's a trap.

He felt himself tense for action as he coiled his legs underneath his body and his hand discreetly found his wand. He was in a pub full of innocent Muggles...should he bluff or fight? Did he have a choice? James felt his heart begin to race, but this wasn't the first time that he'd ever been in danger, and the sudden rush of adrenaline only made his reflexes faster. Six against one wasn't exactly good odds...Seven, he corrected himself, noticing another Death Eater at a table in the back of the pub, strategically placed between James and the back door. All were watching him now, waiting for some signal from an unknown source, and none of them looked friendly. How peachy.

When he'd first walked into the pub, James had, through force of habit alone, calculated every possible entrance and exit route from his table. He'd purposefully asked for one that was against the wall rather than one in the middle of the room, but at the moment, that wasn't much help. He had three angles of escape--front door, back door, and the window in the opposite wall. Between James and each route was at least one Death Eater. I just love being a target! Resolve hardened in his mind. There was simply no neat and clean way to do this, and if he didn't act first, they were likely to go and do something stupid, like trying to blow the damn pub up with him in it. A smile tugged at his lips. From his first days as an Auror, Arabella had always drilled one thing into him: when outnumbered, attack.

Do the unexpected.

"Confundus!"

He was in motion, spinning towards the Death Eaters in the doorway now that he'd struck the three to his right--James would have used something stronger, but there were innocent Muggles in the way--The Obliviators are going to get a workout tonight, he thought irrelevantly. The Death Eater in the back of the pub would just have to wait; he didn't have time to deal with him right now. Muggles were screaming. James' wand finally centered on Leora and her companions. With them, there was more room to play. "Everbero!"

All three Death Eaters sailed backwards, but even as James started to turn to the Dark witch at his back--instinct made him dive for the ground, and he heard his table shatter. Pieces of wood erupted into the air and fell around him like forgotten kindling; a few landed on James as he rolled away from the carnage, thankful for the years of experience that pointed his wand in the right direction. More Muggles screamed as he finally got a line of sight on his target--and then one confused businessman stumbled over the Auror as he tried to make a desperate escape, tangling his legs up in James' right arm and blocking his view of the enemy.

With a terrified cry, the businessman fell on top of James, knocking the air out of his chest and pinning him to the floor. Oh, shit. Power sizzled, and bracing himself for the attack would never help, anyway.

"Crucio!"

The Muggle screeched and went into convulsions. James didn't know if the spell had been aimed at him and had struck the businessman by pure accident or that had been the Death Eater's intention, but at the moment, it didn't matter. He might have used the mistake to his advantage, but as the witch had clearly realized, he was stuck underneath the screaming Muggle, unable to get free of the frightened man. The businessman's arms were flailing wildly; one struck James in the head, and he saw stars as he struggled to get out from underneath the man. A sudden elbow to his stomach only made matters worse, and the Auror struggled to get his wand arm free while he wheezed for air. Screams rang in his ears. Finally, he wrenched his right hand out from under the man's body and pointed it at the businessman.

"Stupefy!" The Muggle became mercifully silent, and even more importantly, he went still. James tracked in on the startled witch. "Reducto!"

It was messy, but he didn't care. Neither could the witch, now, because she'd been blasted into several hundred smaller pieces, none of which would be feeling anything ever again. James did not like to kill, but sometimes, in his profession, it was a necessary evil. War was like that--those that you didn't kill or capture came back to attack you another day--and he had no time for remorse. Muggles screamed as he threw off the unconscious businessman and leapt to his feet, sprinting for the back door.

What he hadn't counted on was Leora. He had forgotten that the other two Death Eaters (who were both men and larger than her slight build) had been standing in front of her. Obviously, they'd taken the brunt of his strike spell, and she hadn't been knocked unconscious like the others--but such a thought didn't enter James' mind until he heard her voice when he was still three strides from the pub's back door and the entire world rocked, exploding around him in a bright flash of light.

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

A knock came on his office door, and Severus Snape sighed. Growling under his breath, he looked up from the stack of sixth-year Hufflepuff essays he was grading ("Describe the History, Uses, and Misuses of the Draught of the Living Death" in no less than three rolls of parchment). He really didn't have time for this. If he ignored them, perhaps his visitor would go away... There was another knock.

"What?" he bellowed.

The door swung open to reveal Mundungus Fletcher, whose scarred face was utterly unreadable (although not to Severus, who knew him well, and could tell he was very unhappy) and a very irritated looking Draco Malfoy. Fletcher's eyes were what gave him away, of course; they were fairly dancing with anger. Looks like that from Aurors had gotten many a Death Eater killed, but Malfoy seemed oblivious. Perhaps he was really stupid enough to miss all the implications of angering the short-tempered Transfiguration professor, but Severus really suspected that Draco simply didn't care. What little he knew of the boy's personality revealed that the Malfoy heir was very much like his father. Just what I need right now, he thought temperamentally. A miniature Lucius in my office. Severus utilized that aggravation to put a scowl on his face. Malfoy would, without a doubt, attribute the expression to the tension present between the respective heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

In truth, the two had a great deal of respect for one another. Snape wasn't in the business of making friends, but if he'd had to construct a list, Dung would have been somewhere near the top. He was a good man, and a brave one--Severus was glad to have helped save his life. I can only hope my most recent attempt at live saving works out as well, he thought grimly. Waiting at Hogwarts was the worst kind of torture--he would rathered act openly against Voldemort, would have rathered join the battle that men like James Potter fought on a daily basis, but his role prevented it. He knew what he was doing was right, and incredibly valuable to their cause, but the restrictions he lived by chaffed at times.

He hoped James was all right. He'd hated Potter once, for various reasons, but mostly because of both their personalities and the friends they had. It was natural for Slytherins to hate Gryffindors, and vice versa--the two of them had just taken it to extremes. Then again, their family histories almost assured that. Potter's lineage was one that had always stood firmly against Darkness; even before the days of Godric Gryffindor, the family had been famous for it. Snape, on the other hand, came from a family of ancient Dark Magic, full of Dark witches and wizards who believed in gaining power at any cost. It had taken Severus a long time to realize how wrong that was.

And looking at young Malfoy, he knew that was a lesson some people would never learn. He turned his mind away from the outside world and pasted his habitual sneer on his face.

"Professor Fletcher."

"Professor Snape." Dung had always been a good actor; he sounded nearly as hostile as Snape. An ex-Auror with Fletcher's history was hardly expected to like a man nearly the entire Wizarding world suspected as a Death Eater, even though no one could prove it.

"What can I do for you?" Severus demanded.

Dung dragged Draco into the room. "Mr. Malfoy here decided that it would be amusing to light Hermione Granger's hair on fire during my class period. I feel that, since he is of your House, you would do best in dealing with him."

"Indeed. Leave him here." He was expected to be short; Dung understood that the rudeness was not directed at him.

"Of course," the Transfiguration professor replied coolly, and with a final nod, left the office, closing the door behind him. Severus waited for a moment, studying his old "friend's" child. Malfoy, he noticed, did not look overly worried, but the slight lines at the corners of his eyes showed that he was a little nervous. Good. Snape had yet to deal directly with the Malfoy heir; this would be the first private conversation he'd had with the boy. He knew some Heads of Houses liked to speak face-to-face with all their first years soon after they came to Hogwarts, but Severus was different. Slytherin was different. He preferred to watch from afar first, and see what he could learn through observation.

Six weeks of observation and Potions classes, coupled with his instincts, told him that Draco was another Lucius, simply younger and less corrupted.

The boy shifted under his unsettling glare, and started to move towards the chair across from Severus' antique wooden desk. The Potions master frowned. "I did not give you leave to sit, Mr. Malfoy."

Cold gray eyes sharpened, and for a moment, Severus thought he might argue. Draco seemed to be weighing options in his head; he tried the aristocratic sneer on for size, then apparently remembered that Severus Snape was an old friend of his father's, and not likely to tolerate opposition. The sneer left the boy's face, and Severus waited patiently for the boy to pay attention. The world has rules, the deputy headmaster thought acidly. Get used to it. Obviously, Draco wasn't used to listening to anyone other than his father. It was best, however, that he learn to change that here, at Hogwarts, rather than taking his lessons at Voldemort's hands. Severus leaned forward, folding his hands on the desktop.

"Explain yourself."

The sneer came back in full force. "Well, sir, the little Mudblood was getting all kinds of--"

"Without the pathetic schoolboy embellishments, if you please, Malfoy," Severus cut in. His cold voice seemed to take Malfoy aback momentarily, and the boy blinked. He hesitated before continuing, clearly thinking fast and trying to come up with an acceptable answer.

"Professor, she insulted me." Obviously, that seemed safe enough. Had the tale been true, it might have been. But Severus knew it wasn't. Liars were easy to spot when you had all the talents yourself. Child's play.

"Did she now?"

"Yes, sir." Severus raised an eyebrow, and Malfoy shifted once more. He really wasn't good at this; a little common sense would have told the boy that Hermione Granger (the only possible "Mudblood" in the Gryffindor-Slytherin transfiguration class) was not exactly likely to throw a cavalier insult in his direction. The girl was smarter than that; she was already a target, and knew that insulting Malfoy could only make things worse. Even Gryffindor first years weren't stupid enough to pick that fight--well, Severus silently amended, some of them were. But that one wasn't.

He let Malfoy fret for a moment longer, then rose gracefully and stepped around his desk to look down at the blonde boy. His student looked up at him, not quite frightened, but smart enough to be wary. Severus waited until the boy looked away, unable to meet his gaze. He crossed his arms, speaking coldly. "Tell me the truth, Malfoy."

"She deserved it," Malfoy snapped. His head came back up, and he looked Snape in the eye, daring his professor to disagree.

Definitely no coward, this one. Severus added the observation to his mental list of Malfoy's personality traits. "For what?"

"She's an insufferable know-it-all." The sneer came back, but this time it wasn't directed at the head of Slytherin. "And she's disgusting. Her kind shouldn't be allowed here."

And there it was: the creed of Voldemort, agreed with by almost all of the Slytherin House. Mudbloods don't belong here. Severus did not allow his inner disgust to show. Once, he'd believed that, too...but no longer. Maybe someday he'd run across another Slytherin like himself, but that wasn't likely. So, for the time being, he would be exactly what they expected him to be. It was no longer hard; he'd been playing the role for years, and very few of his students ever saw the real Severus Snape. Most of those who had were dead--he'd subtly recruited them into the Order of the Phoenix (although they'd never guessed that he himself was a member), and like so many other spies that they had sent against the Dark Lord, nearly all of them were dead. They were the kinds of heroes that bards would never sing of--but there was no time for grief. Severus allowed himself a cold smile.

"Those views, Mr. Malfoy, are not wise ones to voice."

Draco eyed him suspiciously. "But you're--"

"I am," Severus cut him off. Obviously, Malfoy was going to say 'but you're a Death Eater'--he had no doubts that Lucius had shared that juicy tidbit with his son before setting him on the Hogwarts Express--but Snape had no intention of letting the boy act stupidly. He continued. "And I said that it is not wise to voice your opinions. I did not say that I don't agree with you, but we do not speak of such things."

"Why not?" He had his attention now.

"There are advantages, Draco, to appearing as the world would have you be." He intentionally used the boy's given name for the first time, and watched Malfoy perk up upon hearing it. "The animosity between you, Potter, Granger, and the Weasleys is well known. Certain actions are therefore expected. Slytherin, however, is not the House of the cunning and the sly for nothing. Schoolboy pranks are below you--especially one of your blood."

Had any other professor said that to a Malfoy, they would have received nothing more than a doubtful sneer. The Snape bloodline, however, was nearly as antique as the Malfoy family, and young Draco clearly knew that while his father stood in the first place in Voldemort's circle, Severus Snape occupied the second. So he nodded and listened intently as his professor continued in a low purr.

"There are some who are more worthy of Slytherin than others," Severus said softly. "Only a select few will rise to the top of our House. I would hate for you, of all students, to realize less than your full potential."

"I won't fail you, Professor." He had him.

Severus smiled coldly. "I should hope not," he replied. "If you intend to succeed, though, you will heed my advice."

"Yes, sir," Draco nodded. Clearly, he liked the idea of rising to the top of his House, and Severus saw his eyes dancing with anticipation.

"Very well." Severus looked his student in the eye, and let his voice grow hard. "The immature pranks will end. Retaliating in kind against those Gryffindor miscreants will not be accepted. Verbal attacks are tolerable, but all else will take place in a suitably Slytherin manner--preferably in a wood where there are no witnesses save a pair of seconds."

Draco's eyes widened. "But duels aren't allowed, sir."

"Rules, Draco, are made to be broken."