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 VIII: The Slayer Reborn
Hermione sat quietly, looking at Harry as he slept. They had returned to the cabin late at night and both had promptly fallen asleep in each others arms from sheer exhaustion. She had awoken only moments ago, sitting up in the bed they had shared for together for the first time, staring at the assassin. She wanted to touch his skin, to feel his warmth, to tousle his hair lovingly, but she could not. The slightest movement might awaken him, and Hermione could not allow that while she was still there. Were he to awaken, she might not be able to bring herself to leave.
She loved him, but it was time for them to part paths.
She couldn't kill him. No matter how much she hated the breed of assassin that Harry was undeniably apart of him, she could not bring herself to plunge the dagger into his heart as she had been instructed. The day before, she had been agonizingly close to fulfilling the deed, but a single kiss; a single selfless act of love had changed all that. Suddenly the past no longer mattered. All that was important was now, the present where Hermione loved the Order assassin no matter what his transgressions might have been. Suddenly, she could forgive him…
But forgiveness was not enough, not in this case. The world was so much bigger than just the both of them. They were star-crossed lovers, caught in a bloody war that was dividing England. Their love would never survive. As much as Hermione loved Harry, she was rational enough to see the truth in that. They could run away and hide, but as Harry had said before, it would accomplish nothing. She would only be living a lie; taking solace in the illusion of a peaceful world that could never exist.
I wanted it to…I wanted it to exist so badly…
Peace. How she craved the word. She wanted to find a world without war and hate. Where she and Harry could live together and not fear assassins or betrayal. But that was not to be. Harry had denied her happiness with Theodon, and now fate denied Hermione her second love…
Quietly, Hermione gathered her few belongings, sorrowfully regarding the spartan cabin that the two had shared. There was so much love here, so much happiness in the simple room. She was about ready to turn and leave when something caught her eye. Lying on the kitchen table was the red rose that Hermione had shown Harry in the valley. She smiled with bittersweet sorrow and gingerly picked it up.
Harry had taken it with him to commemorate that precious moment. He had rolled over and kissed her on the lips and smiled. "Whether I die tomorrow or in a hundred years…I'll remember today for the rest of my life." He had told her.
"I'm sorry, Harry." She said to the night, placing the rose back on the table. "But it wasn't meant to be…forgive me."
She silently crossed towards the cabin door. Pausing with her hand on the doorknob, Hermione cast a parting look at Harry. Then, she was gone, the door noiselessly closed behind her as she made her way through the grassy field and toward the forest. A man cloaked in the shadows waited for her.
"I don't suppose you killed him." Draco muttered. Hermione shook her head. Draco rolled his eyes. "No matter. He'll be dead in a few hours anyway."
"Let's just go," Hermione urged, tears threatening her eyes. She did not want to be anywhere near when Harry awoke…nor anywhere near when he met his death.
Draco nodded. "Alright, let's get going. It's a half days walk to the site, so I hope you're ready to travel." He turned and disappeared into the trees, but Hermione remained behind for a moment.
"Goodbye, Harry." Hermione said. With one final tearful glance behind at the cabin, she followed Malfoy, slipping away into the night.
---
Harry yawned sleepily as his eyes opened to meet the rays of the early morning sun, running a hand through his disheveled mat of hair with a smile. Stretching like a waking cat, he sat up, rubbing away sleep. He had never had such a good night's sleep before. Maybe it was the extra warmth of a loving woman lying beside him that made it so much more luxurious, but seldom had he felt better and more rejuvenated than he did now.
"Good morning, Hermione." He said. His gaze fell upon the empty space in the bed where his love should have been. A stab of fear froze Harry's heart, but he forced himself to relax. She had probably woken up early and went to buy breakfast for them in the village or gone for a walk. There was nothing to worry about.
With that thought, Harry slipped out of bed and changed into his normal attire. Maybe Janus would be up for more fishing…or better yet maybe Hermione would be willing to resume what they started the day before once she returned. He smiled. Nothing could possibly please him more.
Harry walked out onto the porch and stood there, watching the rising sun. It would be almost be full morning in a half hour so. Hermione had never been gone this long without before telling Harry. After all, he still was her bodyguard. But the intoxicating bliss that still lingered from their ventures the afternoon prior convinced him that nothing was amiss. Hermione would have no reason to leave…she had him here.
"Harry!"
In the distance, emerging from the tree line, a man came running towards the cabin screaming Harry's name. He was dressed in long wizard's robes, and that caught Harry's attention immediately. Leaping down from the porch, he rushed out to meet the man. Gasping with exhaustion, the wizard fell into the assassin's arms.
"Peter!" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
Peter Pettigrew looked up at Harry, his eyes wide with fear. "Death Eaters! Here! They're coming! Right behind me!"
"What are you-" Harry began, but cut off immediately when two more robed forms sprung out from the trees. They were clad in black, white masks covering their faces. From their belts they drew not wands, but long, deadly looking daggers. Without introduction, challenge or warning, the two men raced at Harry and Peter, their weapons held ready to strike.
Harry pushed Peter away from him and prepared to meet the first attacker, cursing himself for forgetting his wand inside the cabin. It was only a few feet away, but Harry could not risk turning his back to his attackers long enough to retrieve it. The assassins rushed in blindly, and Harry moved to confront one, allowing Pettigrew hopefully to handle his partner.
"Look out for their knives!" Peter yelled. "They're poisoned."
Harry swore. This was serious. No longer was this just a simple battle where he was in no real danger like when the brigand had attacked Hermione. Two trained killers were against him, men just like himself whose weaponry was far superior to his own. Things had just gotten a lot more serious.
If what Pettigrew said about the Death Eater's poisonous blades were true, Harry could not allow himself to even be grazed by them. This proved easier said than done, because the assassin Harry faced was not only as young as he, but quite familiar with the weapon in his hand. The two men circled each other, looking for an opening. The Death Eater lunged in, feinting high and then stabbing low at Harry's torso, but the Slayer skillfully caught the man's wrist and pushed him away. The assassin backed away a step, undaunted by his failure to secure a quick victory, and he moved in again.
Harry hazarded a quick glance to his left to see make sure Peter was still alive, but quickly averted his attention back to the Death Eater as he charged in. The blade stabbed in and out, searching to find purchase in the young Order assassin's body, but Harry's quick reflexes kept him out of reach. The assassin surged forward, launching a punch at Harry's face and bringing in the knife with his free hand at the same time. Harry's arm shot up to shield himself from the first blow, and pivoted to the left to avoid the blade. Swiftly, Harry lashed out viciously with his leg at the man's face, connecting solidly. The assassin's nose cracked loudly as bone and cartilage broke, and he staggered backwards, swearing loudly.
"I'll kill you slowly for that!" He snarled, blood dripping from his face. The venom tipped blade weaving back and forth, like a seamstress at her tapestry, the Death Eater retreated briefly, collecting himself for a third assault.
The situation was not good. The man Harry faced was both armed and skilled, and Harry could not even afford to check on Peter's progress in fear of the assassin rushing him. He needed to end this fight quickly or sooner or later the Death Eater would get lucky and land a blow. The Death Eater came in fast, but instead of waiting for him to attack, Harry rushed in to meet him.
The assassin stabbed at Harry's face, and the Slayer slapped away the blade and followed it up with a brutal right hook that shattered whatever remained of the Death Eater's nose. Before the assassin could reel in pain, Harry grabbed the man's hand holding the knife, twisted it around, and without hesitation jammed it straight through the bottom of the man's mouth. The assassin choked as blood rushed up through his throat. He fell to the ground, the hilt of the knife still embedded in the bloody mess of flesh that had once been his mouth, twitching in agony. His pain did not last long, for a moment later the poison claimed the unlucky assassin's life.
Harry looked up and saw Peter walking towards him. The other Death Eater was dead also, lying on the grass a few feet away. "Think that's all of them," The balding wizard said. He wiped his wand clean of blood and then stowed it away.
"What the hell is going on, Peter?" Harry asked. There was blood all over his hands, but he did not think of washing them.
"How about some tea first, eh?" asked Peter hopefully. A murderous glare from the Order assassin quickly vetoed that idea. "Well, let's at least get indoors first. Muggles and all you know?" Harry reluctantly allowed himself to be ushered into the cabin where Peter started making tea on the stove anyway.
"Dumbledore has been trying to recall you for some time," Peter said, fiddling around with a tea kettle. "Almost a month and a half now."
"A month and a half!" Harry exploded. "B-but no one…"
"Has come, yes we know." Peter said regretfully. "We've sent a number of runners out here, but as I feared I believe they have already been intercepted."
"By the Ministry?" Harry asked.
"None other."
Mentally Harry cursed himself again. How could he have not noticed a ring of Ministry hit wizards surrounding the village? His time here had really made him let down his guard if all of this had happened without his notice. It was time to fix that. Another attack from the Death Eaters could come at any moment now that an Order runner had reached him. It was crucial for him to collect Hermione and leave as soon as possible.
"So you're the first one to break through." Harry observed. "Well, what are my orders?"
Peter moved the kettle over to the table where Harry sat and poured two mugs. He passed one to Harry and began sipping at his own. Harry did not touch his. "There's been a problem. You recall that…incident that occurred nearly two months?"
Harry snorted. Of course he remembered. It was the reason why he and Hermione were here in the first place.
"A month or so ago a number of our spies infiltrated into the Ministry detected a leak in the Order…a mole if you will."
"Yes, I already know that. Has the mole been taken care of?" Harry demanded impatiently.
"Not exactly. It was important that we found you, Harry, and its Dumbledore's greatest regret that we could not get to you sooner, but we had to be careful. If we rushed to you we would expose to the Ministry that we knew their spy and they would recall them. But the alternative, it appears, took far more time that we had predicted."
Harry scowled. "What the hell are you talking about, Peter?"
Peter sighed and set down his mug. "The spy is Hermione Granger, Harry. The girl you've been with us all this time. We tried to tell you-"
But before Peter could finish, Harry reached over the table and grabbed the messenger by the nape of his robes.
"You liar!" Harry screamed. Without thinking, he pulled Peter over the table, knocking over the mugs and spilling scalding tea onto the floor. "You lying bastard!"
"Woah! Calm down, Harry!" Peter yelled, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I'm just telling you what I know!"
But that did little to calm Harry's rage. With a cry of anger, he threw Peter across the cabin, sending him crashing into the wall. Groaning in pain, Peter slowly crawled to his hands and knees just in time to see Harry approaching again, murderous intent on his face.
"Harry, Dumbledore has it written!" Peter hastily reached into his robes and pulled out a scroll. "Orders from Dumbledore himself!"
Harry snatched it from Pettigrew and snapped the seal. His eyes scrolled across the parchment, widening as they perused each line. Pettigrew inwardly smiled at dawning horror on the Slayer's face. Harry opened his mouth to speak, to try to refute the damning evidence written first hand by the leader of the Order of the Phoenix, but no words came forth. He was too numb, too shocked to even begin thinking what to do next. The scroll slipped from his fingers, and his legs gave way. He collapsed to his knees, staring blankly into space.
How…
Why…
What…
Each fragmented thought flashed through Harry's mind, unable to complete themselves in the flurry of confusion. Nausea filled him, bile rising from his throat and filling his mouth, and before he could stop himself he vomited on the ground. Hacking and coughing, Harry fell on his hands, trying to rid himself of the sickness. But it was not a physical sickness that could be cured by a potion. It felt like a part of him, an essential component of his being had just been brutally torn out.
It can't be true… he thought. It just can't…
Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, Harry asked with a shaky voice, "How do you know?"
"Following the attack on the Three Broomsticks," Peter said, "We made a more in-depth investigation concerning Hermione's background. Her past was very well guarded and it took a considerable amount of bribes to reveal the truth…"
"She's an Auror, isn't she?" Harry asked, fearing the truth.
"No," Peter said. Relief filled Harry. Perhaps some of what Hermione told him had been true…perhaps he could not entirely condemn her for that. "She's the grand daughter of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge."
Harry threw up again.
"She helped orchestrate the attacks on the Three Broomsticks…" Pettigrew continued.
How could you do this to me, Hermione?
I loved you…
And you loved me…
So how?
"I can't believe this." Harry whispered. "Why…why Hermione?"
Peter chuckling, savoring the agony playing across Harry's face. "I should think that pretty evident, Harry."
Harry looked at Peter, confused. "How?"
"Weren't you listening? She is the granddaughter of the Minister of Magic. Everyone knew she was to be engaged to the son of Samuel Locke…and Samuel Locke was a man you assassinated if I'm not mistake."
Realization struck Harry like a physical blow to his gut. His eyes widened with horror. "Oh my god…" He whispered. "I killed…I killed…"
The conversation from the day before flashed through his mind.
"Did you ever kill a man named Theodon Locke?"
Oh god…
"Just tell me."
Please lord no…
"Harry, please, tell me. I must know."
"I killed Theodon Locke. I murdered her fiancée." He gasped. No wonder…no wonder she hated the Order. No wonder she wanted it destroyed. No wonder she betrayed him.
I kissed her…I kissed the lover of the man I killed…
I assassinated her husband…and I've been traveling with her all this time…
I took everything from her…in one night I destroyed her life…
But then suddenly the memory of that night appeared. The flames. The bodies on the ground. The lifeless form of his best friend, Ronald Wesley. Hermione's betrayal had killed them…
In one night she took everything from me…
Harry clutched his head, pulling at his hair in wordless agony and confusion. He groaned, cradling his face in his hands.
She said she loved me…
Lies…
She said she wanted to stay with me…
Lies…
She kissed me…
Lies…
She hates me…
I took her husband from her…
Her hatred is justified…
"Hermione…" He said. The name no longer brought joy as he spoke it. Instead, it filled him with overwhelming sadness and regret. "I loved you…"
How could you love? How could she love me?
"She betrayed us, Harry." Peter said consolingly. "Her treachery jeopardized the entire Order and killed countless members."
Why, Hermione? Why…
"She's left, hasn't she," Harry said. It wasn't a question. Suddenly her absence this morning was explainable. She knew a messenger was on the way and that her secret would soon be revealed. He would never see her again…
Hermione…
"I'm afraid there's more." Peter said.
How could there be more? Have you not tortured me enough?
"Hermione Granger is a traitor. Dumbledore had declared that she should be executed as such."
"Executed," Harry repeated. "Dumbledore wants me to kill her…"
"Yes."
"I can't kill her. I can't kill Hermione." Harry said.
I love her…I can't kill her…
This was why Sirius had taught him. No attachment, no friends, no lovers. They restrict you. Slow you
down. Harry had ignored his advice and now…now he was paying the consequence.
I can't kill her…
"You must, Harry." Pettigrew said. He kneeled down beside Harry. "There are many in the Order who think your allegiance suspect because of your prolonged stay with Hermione. Some think you may have betrayed us as well."
Harry was too numb to even take offense at the notion of someone thinking him disloyal. He would have to kill Hermione to prove his loyalty, to be welcomed back into the Order and resume his duties. With her death, he could embrace his old life once again.
"Remember, Harry. Hermione is the enemy of the Order of the Phoenix. Of you. She must die."
She is my enemy…
She betrayed me…
She never loved me…
I never loved her…
Everything she told me was lies…
Our happiness was an illusion…
She hates me…
And I hate her…
Hermione Granger must die…
"I spied her leaving only an hour ago with another man. I think he was a Death Eater."
"Where are they going?" Harry asked softly.
"There's no port keys stationed in this region, and apparation is still banned in and out of London, so probably to a clearing several miles to the north of here. It's the only place suitable for teleportation scrolls."
Teleportation scrolls where rare, single use magical artifacts that allowed the user to instantly transport from one place to another, bypassing the usual barriers that a wizard might emplace to keep trespassers away. It took a series of complex spells and regular upkeep to maintain an anti-teleportation scroll field, and because that it was impossible to place one over the entire city of London. It was really the only way in and out of the city without being detected, and the Order was known to use them from time to time.
"I know the place." Harry said. He had spotted the place on his way into the village, mentally recording the location incase he ever had need of it.
"Then you have your orders. If you move quickly you should be able to catch up with them."
Harry turned away from Peter and began walking away. He was sick of talking to the man. The mere sight of the messenger made him feel ill even though it was no fault of Peter's. He was just the unfortunate bearer of bad news, but nonetheless Harry did not think he could stand another moment in the man's presence without throwing up again. Supporting himself against the wall, Harry hobbled over towards the far end of the cabin where a leather sack that lay propped up against the wall. It the same sack that he and Hermione had carried to the cottage when they had first fled London.
From the sack he removed a pair of fresh clothes, not the fisherman's attire but the wizard robes and leggings he wore as an assassin, and his wands. He cast off the blood stained clothes he wore, not caring where they fell, and dressed once again in the garb of the Slayer. The robes were frayed and torn from the countless battles they had been through, but they fit well and served to remind Harry of the old life he was returning to.
Harry Potter the fisherman was dead. Long live the Slayer.
Lastly came the wands, his instruments of death and destruction. He twirled them expertly, slashing them through the air, regaining the feel of his weapons after months of being unused. It came back quickly to the assassin. The flow, the rhythm, the raw fury of his fighting technique -the mere touch of the wooden pommels sent memories of combat and blood shed coursing through his mind. A smile touched his lips, but it was not the pleasant, humorous smile that he had shared so freely with Hermione. It was grim and cold, as cold as the ice that formed in his eyes at the thought of the woman betrayed his love.
"I'm coming for you, Hermione." He promised.
---
Author's Notes:
Hm…not a whole lot to say about this chapter. Took a while to write it actually, longer than I anticipated because I realized I'm pretty bad at the entire angsty stuff too. Oh well. Thanks for all of those who have read and reviewed. Keep them coming! Just five more chapters left!