Trust and Betrayal
By: JA_Japster
Inspired and partially based on the OAV "Samurai X"
Copyright Notice: Harry Potter is copyrighted to J.K Rowling and Samurai X and Rurouni Kenshin is copyrighted to Nobuhiro Wazuki and Shueisha Jump Comics. The fanfiction is the product of JA_Japster and should not be reproduced in any fashion without permission.
Betrayal
Part VI: Ill Tidings We Bring
The cool mid-afternoon breeze was a welcome reprieve from stagnant humidity that had gripped the Fisherman's Village for the last several weeks. The scorching temperatures had forced most of the fish to seek cooler havens away from the coast, and the sudden shift gave hope to the fisherman that they would soon return. Many had already taken to the docks or to their boats to test their luck and try to recoup their losses from the unproductive weeks before, and among them, drifting aimlessly several miles from shore, was Harry and Janus. The two anglers stood on opposite sides of the small fishing vessel, rods in hand, looking out into the endless blue expanse that surrounded them.
Harry grinned as he felt a tug at his line, but had to force himself not to bring it in. Still living well off the funds Dumbledore had provided them, Hermione and he had not suffered from the recent famine of fish. Janus and Patrick, Harry knew, had though and it did not seem right for him to deprive the Irishman of any catch today by taking it as his own. Reluctantly, he let his line go lax and watched as the fish swam away.
Janus looked over at Harry and smiled. "You didn't have to let him go, you know."
"What?" Harry asked surprised. He was about ready to feign ignorance, but the knowing smile on the other man's face stopped him. He shrugged. "You needed him more than I did."
"You could have always given him to me." Janus suggested.
"But you wouldn't have taken it." Harry replied.
Janus nodded. "That is true."
Harry already knew this. They had been fishing together, either alone or with Patrick, for almost two months now since he and Hermione had arrived in the village. During that time, on many occasions Harry had offered to share his catch with Janus when luck had been unfavorable to the Irishman, but every time Janus would flatly refuse. When Harry, who had no real need for the fish, persisted Janus had looked at him much like an adult would look at a particularly slow child.
"There is no honor in taking something you don't deserve." Janus had said flatly, putting an end to any attempt of Harry's to persuade Janus otherwise.
Honor. It was a word Janus used a lot and it was the central foundation for his entire life it seemed. Everything he did had to agree with his unwavering sense of honor as if a code of unwritten laws dictated his every action. Harry found the notion confusing. He liked to believe he lived an honorable life, but at the same time, his chosen profession of killing men sometimes seemed to contradict the idea. Everyone he had killed had been in combat and he was selective in his targets, and that was honorable, but an assassin with honor? Society would call it an oxymoron at the very least.
Another fish bit at Harry's line. Deciding that Janus would not be pleased if he let the opportunity go by, Harry sighed and flicked his rod. At the other end, securely hooked, was a large handsome trout that flipped and flopped on the deck in search for air. Janus smiled, but said nothing. Another hour past without either anglers receiving a bite, but just before noon Harry reeled in another fish.
"You spend a lot of time fishing with me, James." Janus abruptly said, surprising Harry who was expecting something more along the lines of his recent catch. Humoring the Irishman, Harry nodded not quite sure what to say. It was true that during the last two months Harry had accompanied Janus out to sea quite frequently, but he couldn't figure out what that had to do with anything.
Harry waited patiently for Janus to continue, but when he didn't, Harry prompted, "And?"
Janus smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his head. "Stop me if this isn't any of my business, but is everything going all right between you and Lilly?"
Again, Janus' question caught Harry off guard. "Of course," Harry replied quickly. "What makes you think something might be wrong?"
"I don't know," the white-haired fisherman replied with a shrug. "I guess it's because it seems you spend more time fishing with me than you do with her."
"What?" demanded Harry indignantly.
"Now don't get me wrong, I enjoy your company." Janus said hastily. "It's just that you don't act much like newly weds. Not any I've ever seen before anyway."
"I'm not following," the younger man said in a purposely obtuse manner as if wanting to skirt the issue by feigning a frustrating amount of ignorance.
But Janus was not to be dissuaded. "You don't act like you love each other for starters. It's not even because you don't hold hands or kiss in public or what not. I've seen the way you look at her. There's something in it, but it seems more noncommittal than anything. I mean, you do love her right?"
Harry's natural inclination was to say "yes" and be done with, but the unexpected barrage of questions made him hesitate…or worse, think. Did he really love Hermione? The answer should have been right away no, but the fact that he hesitated to think only proved that his immediate response would not be correct. Everything he stood for as an assassin barred the possibility of love, but then how else could he describe what he felt for Hermione? It was more than just a physical attraction or a simple friendliness. It extended far beyond that, but where exactly it stood Harry was unsure. Just thinking about it made him feel uneasy, and made him realize just how complicated his life had become ever since Hermione was introduced into his life.
No, he thought in a weak attempt to bring clarity to his fuddled state of mind, She's just a mission objective. Someone I must protect for the Order. Nothing more.
Liar a little voice in his mind whispered.
"Yes." Harry said, but even as he said it his words sounded hollow and insincere. If Janus noticed, he did not say anything. Feeling it not quite right to hold up his end of the conservation with a continuing stream of monosyllabic responses, he turned and asked, "Did you ever love anyone?"
"Yes." Janus replied. "A man."
Harry raised an eyebrow.
"The only father I ever had." The fisherman continued.
Harry's eyebrow lowered. With an air of someone deprived of an expected treat, he complained, "That's not the same thing."
"Isn't it?" Janus queried. "Love, romantic or otherwise, is still built upon the same foundation."
"What's that?" the raven-haired wizard asked curiously.
"Trust and loyalty. Together they make the primary ingredient to any successful relationship. Without it, you have nothing." Janus chuckled as he said this. "It sounds sappy doesn't it?"
"It does." Harry admitted.
"Sappy or not, though, it is true, you know." Janus said. Suddenly, his voice became more serious, and his face adopted a pensive look as if recalling something that he wished he hadn't. "I lacked in those two areas and ended up losing my father because of it."
"Your father stopped loving you?" Harry asked carefully.
Janus shook his head. "No. I couldn't love him the way I should have, the love a son should have for his father. I was…a disappointment you could say."
"We all are." Harry replied sullenly, remembering the disdain Sirius had felt for him when he decided to join the Order. It had been a long time since then, but even now the memory still hurt a little. It was never pleasant disappointing someone you held in great esteem.
Janus reached into a case on his belt and removed a cigarette. He offered one to Harry who refused, and then lit it. He sat down on one of the boat's benches and took a long drag, forgetting about the fishing pole that hung precariously over the edge. Sadly, he stared up into the sky and said, "I regret those days. I wish I had known more about love then."
"Do you think things might have been different if you had known how to express your love?" Harry wondered.
"Do you mean if I had been more loyal and trustworthy?" Janus asked rhetorically. He thought about this for a moment then nodded slowly. "Yeah, I think they would." He flicked off the charred embers of his cigarette into the ocean and stood, pacing back and forth across the boat.
"My father was a good man. Everyone who knew him respected and liked him." The Irishman told Harry. "But one day he had a falling out with some people he worked with at a company where I also worked. The company alleged that my father stole some very important documents to give to a rival company. I didn't want to believe it, but the evidence they presented to me was crystal clear."
"So what did you do then?" Harry asked.
"I did the wrong thing," Janus replied. "I was young and too stupid to realize that my father betrayed only the company's trust, but not mine. I took it personally, as if he had intentionally stabbed me in the back. I put my duty to the company before my duty as a son, and agreed to help the company expose my father's crime."
Harry frowned, obviously disagreeing with Janus' conclusion. "I think you did the right thing. You were given orders. It was your job to obey them."
"And at what cost?" Janus countered. "At the expense of our humanity? At the expense of the lives our loved ones? My father may have betrayed the company, and that was wrong, but what was worse was for me to betray him out of some corrupted sense of duty. Because my priorities were messed up, I ended up condemning my father to prison."
To Harry, that didn't seem too horrible. Certainly in the magical realm wizards had devised all sorts of nastier punishments than the cells muggles used to confine their criminals. "Did he ever forgive you?" He asked.
Janus shrugged. "I don't know. He committed suicide shortly after unable to bear the shame. He may have died by his own hands, but the blood…" His voice trailed off. "That kind of guilt rides heavy on your shoulders."
"It was your father's choice to kill himself."
Janus laughed unpleasantly at Harry's selection in words. "Choice," He scoffed, "Is for people with power. Back then I was a pawn, and I allowed myself to be used like one. I obeyed orders unquestioningly like a fool, absorbed in the youthful idealism that my unwavering obedience would benefit the company. After my father's death, I realized how stupid I had been and left."
I'll do whatever is necessary for the Order…
Harry's own words echoed in his ears.
I'll kill for the Order…
I'll die for the Order…
Then Janus' voice rang clearly in his mind.
I obeyed orders unquestioningly like a fool…
Suddenly, Harry's eyes narrowed and he looked at the fisherman suspiciously. "Why are you telling me this?"
The other man smiled, undisturbed by the stern tone that Harry's voice had adapted. He stretched his body out, kicking off one sandal and dipping his feet in the water. "I'm an old man compared to you, James. I just want to make sure you don't make the same mistakes that I did. That's all."
"I'll think on it," Replied Harry. Inside, though, his mind was working feverishly. Was this entire story a reference to Harry's supposed marital problems, or were implied subtitles inlaid within the tale? It seemed innocent enough on the surface, but for an instant, Harry could not help but thinking that everything was not as one dimensional as it appeared.
Janus observed his contemplation smiled, taking another puff from his cigarette. "If only life were simple." He remarked.
In the time Hermione spent with Harry Potter tucked away from the rest of the world in the Fisherman's village, days melted into weeks, and weeks into months. People in the village did not let the clock dictate their lives; in essence it seemed they lived their lives one moment at a time. When they were hungry they ate, when they were restless they worked. Their lives rotated around themselves and their neighbors and the politics that seemed to dominate London was completely non-existent in the village. No one ever spoke of it or if they ever did, never in public. London, the ministry, and the rebellion seemed so far away, and at times Hermione could almost forget about them.
But she was not sure if Harry felt the same. Though he too had gradually fallen into the custom and lackadaisical lifestyle of the village people, Hermione could not believe that Harry had forgotten about the severity of the situation back in the city. Whenever she looked at him, he looked happy and smiled often. He even laughed now. However, there was still certain sternness to him. The characteristic coldness of the assassin that lurked within him told her his cheerfulness was only a façade, a mask hiding the monster that lurked within him.
On one occasion, for example, a man had confronted the two of them at their hut. He had been the sole survivor of a roaming bandit group that muggle soldiers had hunted down and destroyed. Desperate and unaware that Harry was also inside, he had brandished a knife and attempted to force open the door when Hermione answered it inside. Within moments, Harry had rushed to her aide and had the man on the ground. True to their agreement, he had not even used his wand, but still managed to break nearly every bone in the bandit's body with his bare hands. While Harry had defended her, the raw savagery in his actions could not be disguised by the dismissive smile he had put on when Hermione expressed her concerns to him.
"He's lucky I didn't use my wand." He had said with a small chuckle.
You wanted to hurt him. Hermione privately thought. You would've killed him if it were not for me. You want to protect me not only from harm, but to shield my eyes from the death that you willingly bring about.
Often she would wonder if it weren't for her if Harry would have returned to London long ago to assist the Order. His loyalty lay with the Order and its cause, but he still had his duty to guard over her in the village. In the same way, she also feared that she might be the only thing caging the beast that made Harry into such a proficient assassin. Perhaps her company might be the only thing that kept him from transforming back into the Slayer. Maybe he enjoyed being with her so much that he didn't want to return to the Order…
But deep inside she knew that was not true. They were supposed to await orders from Dumbledore, but several weeks had already past and she could tell Harry was beginning to grow restless. Sometimes he would sit on the porch for hours at a time, staring into the sky as if waiting for an owl to deliver a message giving him permission to go back. This pained her for she was beginning to grow used to his company…and in truth enjoy it.
Hermione sighed and looked down at the bundle of flowers that she had been assorting on the grass in front of their cabin. Hermione's mother had tried to expose her daughter to some of the more feminine aspects of life like bouquet arrangement, but Hermione had never received them very well. Her interests lied more in academics and magical studies; tedious muggle hobbies had little place in her life. Now though, with magic no longer an option, she was forced to revert to the kind of activities that she once looked down on.
As she arranged the flowers she vaguely wondered how her parents were doing. No doubt they were worried about her, but when Hermione had gotten word to join her grandfather in London, they all knew it was time for her to go her own way. She hoped that would alleviate some of their anxiety though she really did not expect it would. They were protective over their only daughter, and would be mortified to know of the kind of company she kept. That was why she had not written them once since she had left home. It was better that way. The less they knew the better.
She put the last flower into place and examined it skeptically. She had worked hard picking the flowers in a nearby pasture, but nonetheless the arrangement still looked terrible. She smiled. Harry would like it anyway once he returned from fishing down at the beach.
Harry spent a lot of time fishing these days. While Hermione would accompany him from time to time, the novelty of fishing had worn off as the days past. Harry, on the other, genuinely seemed to love it and disappeared for hours at a time with Janus, Patrick, or one of the countless other fisherman. She found herself missing him when he was gone. There were not many women in the village her age that she could relate to, and so she spent most of the time either reading or eagerly awaiting Harry's return. He would always arrive as the sun set, laden with fish that he would cook for them using muggle techniques he had learned from Janus.
Janus…
After renting the boat on once, Harry had befriended the white-haired Irishman. He spent a lot of time with him, talking at one of the pubs on the beach or going fishing. They seemed to get along great together, which caused some discomfort to Hermione. For some reason, she did not like the man much. He was friendly enough, but there just something about him that gave her bad vibes. Harry also seemed to notice her dislike for his new friend, and considerately never invited him to their cabin for dinner.
Maybe I'm just being jealous because he spends more time with him that he does with me…or maybe there's something else. There's definitely something…something familiar about him that I just can't pin point.
Wiping sweat from her brow, Hermione placed the flowers in a basket and took a few steps back towards the hut. Suddenly, she stopped and whirled around, and the pair of pruning sheers she had been holding suddenly went tearing through the air. They embedded themselves in the trunk of a tree nearby…right next to a familiar face.
"Draco Malfoy," Hermione whispered.
The blonde Death Eater smiled and tore the shears from the tree. He casually tossed it back to her and said, "Is that anyway to greet a fellow comrade?"
"What do you want, Malfoy?" She said coldly.
Malfoy sighed and mocked hurt. "Why is it that everyone I meet these days says that? Never a 'hello Draco,' or a 'how have you been doing, Draco?' Really, I'm beginning to get the impression that people don't like me very much."
"People not liking a Death Eater? I would have never imagined." Hermione said sarcastically. She turned away from Malfoy and began walking back towards the cabin. Draco followed her.
"I'm here to get your status report." He said.
Hermione stopped on the steps, her hands clenching on the handle of the basket until she thought it might snap in her grip. Slowly, she replied, "I have nothing new to report."
"I don't believe you, Hermione."
"Then you can just go to hell." She snapped angrily.
Malfoy laughed derisively, unaffected by her harsh retort. "You've been with the Slayer for weeks now, and you want me to believe that you have made no progress in finding any weakness he has? For some reason, I think you're trying to protect him from me."
The words struck so close to home that it almost made her flinch. Regardless, she forced herself to shrug and continue walking as if nothing were wrong. Draco, however, would not be put off so easily and chased after her.
"Why are you protecting him?" Draco called.
Hermione ignored him.
"Are you siding with the Order?"
She did not reply.
"Are you betraying your grandfather and everything he stands for?"
She refused to speak.
"Or is that you've fallen in love with him?"
Without warning, Hermione dropped the basket sending flowers scattering and whipped out the wand in her pocket. She was quick in spell casting, but Draco was a quicker. With lightening fast reflexes he slapped aside her wand, and with a swift kick knocked her to the ground breathless. Snickering, Draco scooped up her wand and waved it tauntingly. She glared at him murderously, but the Death Eater only grinned.
"Looks like I guessed right." Draco laughed.
"I'm going to kill you, you bastard." Hermione snarled.
Draco pretended not to hear that. He was used to death threats, and the impudence of a spoiled little witch was no reason to become worried. Granddaughter of the Minister of Magic or not, at the moment her loyalties were questionable and was to be considered as a liability. Bending down, he lifted the girl's chin up with his hands so that he looked her in her hazel eyes.
"Why?" Draco asked. "Why do you love him?"
"It's none of your business, Death Eater. It's nothing someone like you would understand."
Draco nodded. "You're right. I guess it's something I would not understand."
Hermione looked up at him confused. It was not the type of answer she had been expecting. "Y-you agree?"
"Yes. I grew up as an unloved child and spent the rest of my life killing people. I know little of the mysterious power known as love." He smiled. "But it makes me wonder if you're lover knows anymore than me."
"Harry's not the murderer you are." Hermione spat.
"Isn't he? We're of the same breed, the Slayer and I."
"Don't call him that."
"What? The Slayer? I'm sorry, Hermione dear, but if you refuse to see the truth then you're just setting yourself up for an unpleasant surprise. Harry Potter is the Slayer just as much as I'm a Death Eater. Nothing will ever change that."
"I love him for who he is, not what he was." Hermione said with an air of finality.
"Really?" Draco shot back. "Would you still think the same way if I were to tell you it was Harry, your new lover, that killed Theodon?"
His words were like a slap in the face. For a moment, Hermione could only stare at him in wordless astonishment, but surprise quickly gave way to anger. "You lying bastard!" She screamed. "You lying piece of shit!"
Draco laughed at her fury and stepped away from her in case she became irrational enough to attack him even without her wand. "A bastard and a piece of shit I may be, but a liar…well occasionally, but not right now." He said smoothly.
Heaving breathlessly, Hermione glared daggers at the Death Eater whose glib smiles only served to infuriate her more. "I don't believe you!"
"What do I need to do? Get written orders from the Order telling you boyfriend to kill your fiancée? Think about
it, Granger. I know you're a smart witch. Surely you can put the pieces together. He's an assassin; your
fiancée was accompanying his father who was a target." Draco frowned as if in thought. "God, I wonder what
could've been the result of that!"
Hermione could say nothing to that. As much as she hated to admit it, Malfoy's logic was flawless, and his accusations were not unlike some of the fears she retained in her mind. Deep down inside she suspected that Harry, the Order's most potent assassin, was behind Theodon's murder, but every time she had firmly refused to believe it. Maybe it was because she wanted to love Harry so much, and the knowledge that Harry killed the only other man she ever loved would destroy that possibility. Still, Draco's word was not enough. She needed more evidence than that.
"Ask him. Ask if he knew Theodon." Draco urged.
"I will." Vowed Hermione, meaning it. She had put off the question far too long. Tonight she would discover the truth.
"And what will you do if he did in fact kill your fiancée?" Draco asked.
Hermione paused. What would she do? She had sworn to avenge her fiancée's death, but could she betray her love for Harry if it came to it? Taking a deep breath and summoning resolution she did not feel, she turned and said, "Then I'll kill him myself."
Author's Notes:
Whew, that took far longer than I expected. While writing this chapter (which took four very different drafts before I was satisfied) I also began drafting later chapters and it looks like Betrayal will have a total of thirteen chapters as well. In case anyone still thinks the storyline is too much alike Samurai X…well…just wait. I promise it'll be vastly different. Still no phone line in my new house, so updates are still going to be coming pretty slow. Thanks to all those who read and reviewed.