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 VII: Betrayed By a Kiss
The wizard died easily.
He had been occupied with trying to remain undetected by the muggles that he had not noticed a shadow stalk up behind him, nor the dagger that suddenly plunged through the back of his neck. It wasn't until he spotted the blood pouring from the ghastly exist wound in his throat that he realized he had been killed, and by then it was far too late to cry out for help. His life quickly fading, the wizard's head twisted around to gaze into the face of a masked man. His eyes widened in surprise and his mouth opened to voice his last words, but the opportunity perished when the knifeman brutally ripped the knife out, spraying blood all over the grassy floor.
The masked man slowly lowered the dead wizard on the ground and paused to clean the blade on his cloak. The knifeman sighed deeply and removed his mask, revealing the frustrated face of a man known to the dead wizard, a man who went by the name of Peter Pettigrew.
Peter sheathed the blade and stooped down beside the dead man and rummaged through his cloak until he found what he was looking for, a rolled up piece of parchment bearing the crest of the Order of the Phoenix. It was identical to the scrolls that the last two messengers had carried when Pettigrew intercepted and assassinated them. Without breaking the seal he already knew what the messages contained. They were coded orders from Albus Dumbledore to his precious pet assassin, orders that Captain Malfoy of the Death Eaters did not want Harry Potter to see…not until it was time at least.
Peter pocketed the parchment just like he had to the other confiscated messages, then with his wand, transfigured the dead man's corpse into a pile of sand. A stray gust of wind picked it up into the air, and within moments had carried it out of sight.
For more than two excruciatingly monotonous months Pettigrew had been hiding on the outskirts of the village intercepting these persistent Order messengers. This was the third in a month, and Peter feared that before long Dumbledore would notice the failure to deliver the orders. Running messages was always risking business, but necessary with the Ministry watching owls coming into and out of the city, and the danger that came attached to the profession might excuse one or two undelivered letters. But three would soon warrant the attention of Dumbledore, maybe even enough for him to come to the village in person to meet Harry, and Peter did not want that.
His worries were assuaged ever so slightly by the conversation he had had with Malfoy the day prior. The Death Eater captain had told him things would soon be happening and that Peter should be prepared. And he would. He might be a traitor, a sneak, and a liar amongst many other unsavory qualities, but no one could argue that Peter Pettigrew was efficient. Soon the Order would be crushed, and Lord Voldemort would reward Peter handsomely for being so instrumental in its downfall. Nothing could please him more.
Stowing away his wand, Peter put his mask back on and quietly slipped away back in the trees.
---
It was almost evening when Janus found himself trudging back towards his cottage across the sandy beach, fishing pole and bucket of freshly caught fish hanging behind his back. He was exhausted from the long day of laboring under the intense sun, and to top it all off his skin would not even benefit from it. No matter how long his milky white skin bathed in the sun, it never darkened. He sighed. He would never find a girl in this village at this rate. They seemed to fancy tanner skin for some strange reason. Such was his curse…
He smiled to himself. While he was getting older, he felt no immediate urge to run off and get married like all of his friends in the village counseled him to do so. Love was not something you just rushed into it. It took years sometime to build, and if it could weather the storm of time then it must be firm. Or that was what someone had told him during his adolescent years. It seemed meaningless then, and even now its value was still questionable in Janus' opinion. There was some truth in it, perhaps, but he really didn't feel the inclination to dwell on it any further. The time on the boat debating about love on the boat with James had been more than enough.
Kids… Janus thought. It was hard to believe he had been that young at one time, so prone to the luring temptations of the world and so quick to stumble and fall on every obstacle life threw his way. But that had been then, and this was now. Now, guys like James were the young ones, and Janus was the wizened elders who watched amusedly while they made the youth made their mistakes.
Janus felt a sudden weariness in his arms and he paused to set down his load. It wasn't just the sun or his work that tired him. No, he had been doing this for three years and was well acquainted with the strain it put on his body. It was because of the kid, James or whatever his true name might be. It was exhausting holding up the masquerade of ignorance, pretending like he didn't know the truth or at least some of the truth.
He knew the kid's name wasn't James nor was his wife's name was Lilly. They were aliases. The boy was James' son; Janus could discern that much with a casual glance. But the girl was harder to pinpoint. They were both magic users and powerful ones at that. The aura that only a fellow magician could detect was evident enough. Why they insisted on using their fake names and hiding out in the village was probably linked to why Draco and the Death Eaters wanted the boy dead so badly. Janus didn't know the specifics, and until he decided to ask it would probably remain a mystery.
And that was completely fine with him. Janus was in the village for no glorious reason, and he was sure the newly weds had their own reasons for staying incognito. It was none of Janus' business what they were doing here, and besides, they made for good company. The girl was friendly and polite on the few occasions he had met her; not at all like the snobbery which most magic users regarded muggles with. And the boy…he reminded Janus a lot of the boy's father. They were very much alike.
Finally, he arrived at the cottage. With a weary sigh, he dumped his gear on the front porch and kicked open the door. "Patrick, I'm back!" He yelled while casually kicking off his sandals. He blinked. No response came. Curiously, he peered into the cottage.
The place was a mess, even more than usual. The few pieces of furniture that they did have had been shattered into pieces, and the air was thick with the stench of blood. What was the cause of his carnage did not remain a mystery for long, for standing in the middle of the room was Draco Malfoy.
"Hello, Janus."
"Malfoy."
Draco smiled evilly. "A friend wants to say hello." He reached into the darkness and pulled what appeared to be a person into his arms. It took a moment for Janus to realize that the person was Patrick, and that the blood that covered the floor belonged to him. Bound and gagged, he unconscious and bleeding from countless cuts all over his body.
"I told you to accept my offer, Janus." Draco said. "Now what do you think?"
But Janus was beyond words. His teeth were clenched with rage and his fists were closed so tightly small trickles of blood had begun to form from where his nails and torn into his skin. Fires of insane fury sprang up in his eyes where they burned brightly in a brilliant pyre of blazing madness. From across the room, Draco could not recall seeing any wizard looking quite as fearsome as the Irishman did now. He jabbed his wand harder into Patrick's torso and was satisfied that this seemed to keep Janus in check. At the very least it kept the wizard from immediately leaping at his throat.
"Let him go, now." Janus said in a deathly whisper, the menace in his voice evident. Each word was underlined with a deadly threat grave enough to send a chill through Draco's spine. Draco had seen raging Hippogriff's look friendlier than the albino wizard right now. Nonetheless, he managed a shaky grin of defiance.
"Muggles are sure a tough lot," Draco laughed, trying to push aside his fear. "I used nearly every torturing curse I knew and the bastard is still alive."
It was the wrong thing to say because a moment later the flames that radiated in Janus' eyes transferred to his right hand. Only this time the flames were real. A blue ball of fire had formed around Janus' hand like a protective gauntlet, crawling up his flesh without burning it and radiating light in the dim room. Draco had heard stories about the Irish Death Eater and the fire that he commanded, and the stories always ended with one sagely piece of advice: If you see it, run. But Draco's determination was firm, and even ominous tales of the immense power that the man commanded would not deter him. Not until his objective was complete.
"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?" Janus roared.
"You know what I want." Draco replied. "I need you to kill the Slayer."
"Why?" Demanded Janus angrily. "Why the hell do you want to kill the boy so goddamn much?"
"He's an enemy to the Ministry. He's killed dozens of high rankings Ministry officials."
"So kill him yourself! Or is it because you're too afraid of his power?" A cruel smile crept across Janus' lips. It mocked Malfoy. "Yeah, I've felt the boy's potential. It's immense, more than his fathers, more than my own even."
Draco glared at the other Death Eater and momentarily forgot how afraid of he was of the small orb of fire that danced in Janus' palm. "I would kill him in an instant if my master would allow it," he sneered. "But the situation such as it is…"
"I've told you before I'm done killing people for you." Janus bellowed.
"And I should care?" Draco asked. "We've tried dozens of times over the last few years to get you to return to us, to your family, but each time you have refused. Now it has come to this. Obey the orders and Lord Voldemort will forgive you for your crimes against us. He'll grant you amnesty for leaving us."
The white-haired wizard laughed scornfully. "I don't need his forgiveness. The only forgiveness I need is the kind no one can grant."
"Forgiveness for killing Lilly and James Potter you mean?"
Suddenly, flames erupted from Janus' left hand and the Irishman held up both balls of fire for Draco to behold. Malfoy could feel perspiration dripping down his brow, but he told himself it was from the humidity in the room. Not from fear, from fear of the evil eyes that glowered at him or the lethal blazing orbs that were wielded by a man who sought nothing more than to destroy him.
"That's right." hissed Janus. His eyes had changed once again. Not content with just being aflame, they had transformed to being cold as ice. They portrayed nothing, no anger, no hate -nothing. They were the perfect eyes of a killer. If Draco had been scared before, he was terrified now.
"Touch me and I'll kill him," Draco warned, prodding his wand against Patrick's back. "And even if you do kill me, what do you think will happen next?"
Janus paused, and the flames on his hands faltered.
"Yeah, that's right." Draco leered. "Kill me and legions of Death Eaters will come down on this village in swarms. They'll kill everyone without mercy. But you can save the village, Janus, you can save them from this fate. All you have to do is…"
"Kill the Slayer." Janus whispered tonelessly. His face fell, his shoulders slumped tiredly, and the orbs of fire extinguished themselves in a cloud of smoke. No longer did he look remotely as evil or fearsome as he had only seconds ago. In fact, Janus looked exactly like the harmless fisherman that he had aspired to become for so many years.
Draco grinned viciously. No matter how tough Janus might be, everyone had their weak point and Draco had just discovered it. The Irishman loved his precious village and its people more than life itself. He would not dare endanger it in anyway, and would do anything to see that it came to no harm. How typical for the strongest, most deadly wizards in the world to have a soft spot for the weak. It was noble in a sense, but equally stupid.
"I'll do it." Janus said in defeat. "Just tell me what to do."
Draco nodded. "Here's what I need you to do…"
---
Harry moved swiftly through the undergrowth of twisted branches and leaves as he followed Hermione through the gloomy forest. Sun did not shine through the thick overhead canopy and there was no break in the trees for light to penetrate. The woodlands seemed devoid of animals as well; as if the forest creatures that frequented the village shunned the ill lit woods. He did not know where Hermione was leading him nor why. Several miles away from their hut and the beach, these were areas he had yet to scout out, but Hermione somehow knew the way. Every now and then she would make a turn, and Harry would compliantly do the same. The two had been walking for over an hour now and still there was no end in sight of these trees. Every so often Harry would try to ask Hermione where they were going, but she had been adamant about remaining quiet, leaving Harry to silently speculate about their probable destination.
Harry frowned as he ducked underneath a particularly large branch that threatened to snag the nape of his shirt. Ever since he had returned from fishing with Janus this afternoon Hermione appeared to be less calm and composed than normal. She denied it of course, but there was an underlining urgency in her behavior that did not go unnoticed by Harry. For example, she had practically shoved him out of the door and insisted that they travel to these remote woods without so much as an explanation. He found this curious and a little unnerving for some reason he could not quite place. Still, Harry was a soldier and used to obeying orders blindly. This was nothing outside of routine for him.
"Are we almost there?" Harry asked. Hermione paused and looked back only long enough to shoot an annoyed glance at him before pressing on. She looked exhausted, but yet she insisted on continuing. Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully. What could possibly be so damn important that she would wear herself out like this?
They walked in silence for another hour when suddenly a break in the trees appeared. Sunlight streamed in through the cracks, revealing a grassy valley that waited for them beyond the tree line. Even from where he stood, Harry was amazed by it. The grass was a brilliant green, and flowers of every assortment and variety blinded him with a dazzling array of colors. A small smile crept across Harry's face. Maybe this was why Hermione wanted to come here so badly. Hermione motioned Harry to follow, and with a shared sigh of relief, they left the forest.
"Wow," Harry whispered. "It's fantastic."
Hermione nodded. She walked further into the valley to where a large tree sprung from the ground, its umbrella of leaves shading a small area beneath it. She sat down and patted the spot beside her. Harry kicked off his sandals and walked to join her. The grass was cool and still moist. It felt great.
"I remember you telling me you always wanted to see a place like this," Harry said, recalling the conversation that they had shared beside the river on the outskirts of London not so long ago. While he had thought the riverside once appealing then, its beauty was greatly eclipsed by the awesome display of nature he and Hermione were in the presence of. "Is that why you wanted to come here?"
"Yes…" Hermione said hesitantly, "And no." Regarding Harry's puzzled look, she added, "I came here to talk with you."
"About what?" He asked.
Again, she seemed to think about what to say, as if carefully selecting her words as to not relay something unintentional or offensive. But what did she have to hide? "Are you happy here with me?" She asked.
"Of course," Harry replied. "I love it here."
"Would…would you want to stay here with me?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Would you…" Hermione began tentatively, and then spilled out the rest, "…leave the Order and stay here
with me?"
"What?" Harry asked alarmed.
"You said you loved it here, Harry." The young witch explained. "I'm sick of the bloodshed and death, Harry…and I hope you are too. We can leave forever and live here in peace. We could be happy."
Harry was up on his feet in an instant and was involuntarily backing away from her, as if her way of thinking was contagious and might infect him. "Hermione, are you crazy? I-I can't leave the Order. They need me!"
"They haven't called for us in months, Harry." Hermione argued. "It might be destroyed for all you know. So many people have already died. I don't want you to die too."
So this was what she had been leading up to. Harry silently cursed himself for not seeing it earlier. She was right in so many ways that it pained Harry to admit it. They both loved their new home so very much. They had become attached to it, and giving it up would be hard. But he knew the time would come to rejoin the Order, and he had always been prepared to do so. But it seemed Hermione had not. Somewhere along the way she had lost her passion for the Order's goals and had fallen sway to the luring temptation of peace that the village offered.
"The Order needs not only me, Hermione." Harry said quietly. "They need both of us. I can not forsake my comrades to death just so I can live in peace. Had I wanted that I would never have joined."
"Even a life of peace with me?"
Harry did not want to answer the question, to see the pain on Hermione's face that would accompany his response. He didn't want to hurt her, he never wanted that, but she had to see the truth. Only harm could come from maintaining this illusion. "Even with you."
Hermione bit her lip, trying to hide the tears that sprang up in her eyes. She looked away so that he wouldn't see her cry.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I care for you deeply, but…"
"But what, Harry? You are no longer their assassin, the Slayer." Hermione said. "Once I called you a killer, a man without worth, but you've changed Harry. Harry Potter, not the Slayer. You're different than before."
"Am I so different?" He wondered.
"You smile, Harry. Here, you've learned how to enjoy life. Amongst friends and those who love you, you have found another purpose. Not as a killer, not as a soldier, but as a human."
A human…a person…a being with intrinsic value.
This was why Sirius had warned him about friendship and loved. It slowed you down, it made you hesitate, and it made you think. Gone was the clarity of Harry's purpose, his purpose as an assassin to make way for a new peace in England, shrouded by the plethora of emotions that bombarded his mind. He wanted peace for England…but he had found peace here with Hermione…and part of him did not want to let it go.
Taking a deep breath, Harry said, "I know where my loyalties lie."
--
The words cut through Hermione like a knife, only the stab of a knife would have hurt less. It penetrated through her body and into her soul, tearing away at her heart and bringing a fresh wave of tears to her eyes. She had fought to convince Harry to turn from the path of bloodshed and death, honestly she had, but with those last words he had forced Hermione to betray her love for him. She loved the man, the assassin, but as Harry had just said, she too knew where her loyalties lay.
From her pocket, Hermione's hands fell across the cold pommel of a dagger that Draco had left her. It was small, barely larger than her hand, but incredibly deadly. She was under no illusion that she could kill Harry by herself, but Draco assured her that a single cut from a blade dipped in the most potent of poisons would kill anyone instantly. He would feel no pain. Hermione tried to comfort herself with that thought.
"Even if we did stay here," Harry said, looking out into the field. "The war would continue. One day it would come here, and the peace we enjoy would shatter. And then once again we would find ourselves emerged in it. You understand that, don't you?"
"Peace, even for a little while is worth all the gold in the world, Harry."
"But it would not be real. It would be fake, a world we build for ourselves on the foundation of false hope and deniability. We don't want war, therefore we won't have war. But it doesn't change the fact that war is still there waiting for us to make a difference. With my wand I can help bring in an era of peace that will last longer than any peace we build for ourselves here."
He was right. Hermione knew he was. The passion in his voice was so sincere it could convince anyone of the righteousness of his cause. But he was still the enemy, a foe of her grandfather and the Ministry. He opposed everything that Hermione's life stood for, and yet she loved him for it.
Hermione reached down and plucked a red rose from the grass and twirled it between her fingers. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" She asked quietly.
"Aye, it is." Harry agreed.
"If only we could be this rose, Harry." Hermione said. "It grows, it flourishes, and it dies."
"It has no goals, no ambitions, and no desires."
"But it has no worries either. People see it and adore its beauty. It knows nothing but peace and love."
"Hermione…I…"
She stood and stood behind Harry. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his back. From her pocket, the dagger slipped into her hands. She loved him. She loved him so much. But now was the time. Now was the moment of truth. She could wait no longer.
"Harry, can I ask you a question?"
Harry smiled. "Of course you can."
"Do you promise me you'll answer is truthfully?"
"Yes."
Hermione swallowed hard. "Did you ever kill a man named Theodon Locke?"
Harry froze. "Why?" He asked.
"Just tell me." Hermione insisted.
Harry did not answer.
"Harry, please, tell me. I must know."
In the distance, the sun was setting behind the trees, bathing the field and the flowers in a wash of orange light. The wind was still. The sky was clear. Not a sound could be heard.
"Yes. Yes I did." Harry replied. "He was the son of a target. I told him to leave, but he decided to fight. I had no choice."
You had no choice…
Tears welled in her eyes. Tears of grief, grief inspired by the thought of what now had to be done. She loved Theodon, loved him as much as she now loved Harry, and it was her duty to avenge his memory. It had to be done. Only with the death of his assassin could he find rest.
I have no choice…
Harry Potter must die…
"Did you know him?" Harry whispered.
Hermione nodded silently, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry."
You're sorry.
Harry turned around and faced Hermione. Her eyes met his, and for a moment she could only stare into those hypnotizing green eyes. There was pain in them, regret, remorse lurking within the pool of emerald. "I'm sorry I have caused you pain, Hermione. You have given so much to me and taught me so much. And-"
He suddenly kissed her on the lips. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise at the soft touch of his lips on her own, at the warmth that enveloped her body. She found herself responding to his kiss, drinking it in and unconsciously returning it. All too soon the kiss was over, and Hermione found herself breathless, wanting more, her body craving for the joy that filled her mind in that moment of pure bliss.
"-I think I love you…" Harry said.
"I thought an assassin could not love." Hermione replied.
Harry smiled playfully. "It's like you said, I've changed."
"Good, because I think I love you too, Harry." Hermione whispered into his ear.
He kissed her again. Hermione closed her eyes, and the knife fell from her fingers and landed lost in the grass where it would remain forgotten. She reached up to hold him around the neck. They lay down on the ground, locked in each others arms, oblivious to the sun as it disappeared from sight or the moon as it claimed its nocturnal throne. It was a long, long, long time before either spoke again. They were far too occupied to even think of talking.
Hidden in the shadows, a pair of eyes watched the lovers kiss. A look of disgust crossed the person's face, and a moment later they had disappeared back into the night.
---
It had taken all of the healing spells Janus knew just to drag Patrick away from the precipice of death, and even then his condition was uncertain. After applying basic bandages and putting Patrick in bed, it had taken Janus several hours to draw the magical runes and seals that would mend the powerful curses that had all but destroyed Patrick's body. Activating them had been a lesson in agony. Already tired, Janus' endurance was pushed to the breaking point as magic was sucked out of his body and sacrificed to energize the seals. But he had done it. Exhausted beyond imagination, Janus had collapsed wearily but satisfied in his chair, bathed in the blue light of the glowing runes as they went to work.
Now all he could do was wait.
Several hours later Patrick's breathing began to stabilize and Janus thought he had awoken for a moment. That had helped the Irishman relax if only a little. Patrick was tough. Once he had been attacked by a bear, and it had been up to Janus to patch him up before the muggle doctor arrived. The wounds had been nearly as bad as these, but the old bastard had still managed to survive.
But Janus' friend's health wasn't the only thing on his mind that night. Not by a long shot.
Draco's words still lingered in his mind. He had told Janus about the mission at hand, the last job Janus would ever have to take on before finally he could be left in peace. All Janus had to do was kill one person. One person and it would all be over. But that person just had to be his friend…a boy named Harry Potter.
Harry…so that was the boy's name. Harry Potter, son of James and Lilly. It had a nice ring to it. And the girl was Hermione Granger, adopted granddaughter of the Minister of Magic. So it was an assassin and a young girl, two of the most important personnel on opposite sides of a war, hiding out together. What a pair they made. Janus vaguely wondered if the poor boy had any idea who he was traveling with…and falling in love with.
A deep sadness filled Janus. They were just children, kids that had been given such a huge responsibility years before they should ever be burdened with such tasks. And now, because of that Janus' hand would be forced against them. He wished it were not so. He wished that Harry had never picked up a wand or that he had never met Hermione. Perhaps then Janus would not have to betray him…just as he had betrayed Harry's father all those years ago. But now was not then. History was repeating itself, and Janus was powerless to stop the tide of progressively unfolding events. He was caught in the midst of it, like a child caught in a tidal wave, doomed to be swept along.
"Please forgive me, James." Janus whispered to the ceiling. "I have no choice."
And he did not. If he chose to refuse the orders, then he would condemn the village to destruction. Hundreds of innocent would die for his selfishness, and Janus would not allow that. He had no choice in the matter. He never had. Not now. Not then.
Harry Potter had to die.
Janus walked over to a nearby closet and rummaged around in it before he withdrew a large dusty chest. He brushed it off, and then magically unlocked it with a snap of his finger. Inside were a plethora of items. Clothing, books, artifacts were neatly stacked inside -souvenirs of his bloody past that he had tried to forget about. But now they were back to haunt him, to remind him of the path that he once walked and would now have to walk again.
Janus reached into the chest and withdrew a set of black robes, arm braces graced with magical runes of protection, and lastly a faceless white mask. It was the uniform of a Death Eater. Quietly, he doffed his normal attire and put into the new ones. They fit seamlessly just as they had when he first put them on all those years ago. Every aspect of his garb was tailored specifically for him, accentuating his identity. These clothes told him who he was. They were made for him, just as he was made for them. There was no denying it. He was who he was, an assassin, born and bred for one purpose: to kill.
Janus slipped the mask on and peered at his image in a shard of broken glass that littered the floor. No longer did the white haired fisherman gaze back, but the face of a hardened assassin. The man he had tried unsuccessfully to bury had been reborn.
I'm sorry, Harry. I have no choice.
Author's Notes:
The next few chapters should hopefully come quicker. Between homework and exams, I've been pretty busy studying and have had little time to write. Sorry about that. Argh, and the romance scene here was hard to write. Let me reiterate, I am horrible at writing them. It was the hardest 180 or so words I have ever written. Be sure to drop a review when you're done reading. Thanks!