Wedlocked
Chapter 29: The Hardest Part

No one in the house could sit still. They paced the floor until it shined from the passage of their feet; sat only to stand immediately, ashamed that they would dare try to rest or relax while Remus was somewhere in the world facing death. Sirius drank half a bottle of brandy before he couldn't stand the waiting anymore and disappeared through the fireplace to Dumbledore's office, determined to find some answers. Hermione had watched him leave, assuming that as soon as he arrived in the Headmaster's Office, he would stumble into a chair and fall asleep, despite his anger and agitation.

She was tired, too, but the idea of sleep held no appeal.

Remus was too important to them – a mentor to Harry, love to Tonks, friend to Sirius. That he would be alone in this was too painful to think about. He had been forced into isolation by his condition; Dumbledore should have known better than to make him alone in this, too. There were more than enough people fighting the good fight to give him a partner, an ally, something. Making him work alone just seemed cruel.

"What time is it?" Harry asked.

"Two minutes since you last asked," replied Ron.

"Half nine," Ginny said and smacked her brother. "He's been gone over twelve hours. What the hell is he doing?"

It was a sure sign of their distress that Molly did not say one word to her daughter about her language.

"Maybe we should have gone with Sirius," Harry said, raking a hand through his hair until it stood on end.

Tonks shook her head. "No one would be here if he comes back. What if he's hurt?"

Considering his monthly traumas before the invention of the Wolfsbane potion, Hermione thought him more than capable of dealing with even the most severe physical or psychological damage. Saying as much, however, was unlikely to inspire any level of confidence in the worried assembly, so she said nothing.

It took hours, but exhaustion finally claimed them one by one.

Time ran in odd fits and spasms after that. Hermione jerked awake at every strange noise thinking it Remus or Sirius returning; more often than not it was only Kreacher shuffling past or James cursing and kicking a piece of furniture in a nearby painting. Every time she woke the time had moved on – 9:02, 10:46, 12:25, 2:59. Occasionally someone else would be awake, watching the clock or door, face ashen and expression mournful. As the twenty-four-hour mark drew ever nearer, the sitting-room felt more like a wake, as if Remus had already died and they were merely awaiting final confirmation.

"He isn't coming back, is he?" Ginny whispered as the clocked ticked past the exact time Remus had left them without so much as a pause to spare their feelings. Twenty-four hours he had been alone. Twenty-four hours he had been gone without sending word.

Tonks cried, not for the first time, and Hermione could only imagine her pain. The woman loved Remus, no one knew for how long. While Hermione admitted that she had grown fond of Sirius, she didn't love him, not like Tonks loved Remus. As time continued ticking on, she tried to put herself in Tonks's place. What would she do if it was Sirius who had gone off on Order business?

Follow him. Stop him. Help him. Kill him. Something. Anything other than wait around in a dark room, crying and worrying.

"I can't stand this anymore!" Tonks cried, shattering the respectful silence and running for the door.

Knowing they should stop her but unable to think how, they watched her go. The front door slammed shut and they heard her scream.

"Tonks!" Harry shouted and sprinted after her.

It was Death Eaters. It had to be. They had killed Remus and now they were coming for the rest of the Order.

Drawing her wand, Hermione hurried to follow Harry.

As the door flew open, she sent a silent stunner at the figure in the doorway. Her aim was off by barely an inch and the pair on the doorstep entered.

"Help me!" cried Tonks. "He's heavier than he looks!" She staggered in, her natural lack of grace in no way aiding her entry into the cluttered hallway. The man leaning against her groaned his protest, either to being called fat or to being used as a cushion when she tripped and fell into the wall.

"Remus!" Harry shouted, racing the few feet to the man's side and taking some of his weight. "Where were you? Are you all right? What's wrong?"

"Just tired," he replied, his voice as rough as it was immediately following his monthly transformations, when the screams ripped from his throat. She hated to imagine what had happened to him over the past thirty-six hours to have him sounding like that.

"Ron," Mrs Weasley commanded, "take Nymphadora's place. Upstairs with you. We'll let him rest and send word to Dumbledore and Sirius that he's come back safe."

"Already know," Remus grated out as Ron and Harry set him down on his bed. "Sent a Patronus."

"And neither one bothered to tell us?" replied Hermione indignantly. "Sirius knows how worried we've been, the git!"

A dark laugh escaped him as he fell back onto the pillow. "Has worries enough of his own right now."

Hermione did not like the sound of that, and, despite her stress-induced exhaustion, she wanted to stay and demand answers. Remus, however, was already asleep. In the warm light of the sunrise, it was clear the man was beyond bone-weary. Whatever his assignment, it had been one that required every last ounce of his strength.

"Let's leave him to rest," Molly smiled. "I'll make us all something to eat."

"You go," Tonks said. "I want to stay with him."

Glancing back, Hermione saw the woman lay down and wrap her arms around the sleeping werewolf, the picture of pure contentment, and wondered if she would ever know that feeling.

oOo

Sirius ran from the fireplace just as they were sitting down to breakfast, his eyes practically as wild as his tangled hair. He looked nearly identical to the man who had cornered them in the Shrieking Shack, only dressed slightly better. He didn't spare them any pleasantries or offer any apologies for his long absence.

"Moony?" he asked.

"Asleep upstairs," Arthur assured him. "Sit down and rest. It's been hard on everyone, this waiting business."

Sirius nodded his understanding but instead of moving to sit, he pushed past the kindly Weasley patriarch and ran up the stairs to ensure his friend was still alive. Expecting him to return after checking on Remus, they all sat and began to eat, making up for over a day spent without appetite. Fruit, eggs, sausage, bacon, toast, mushrooms all vanished from their plates while Sirius was upstairs.

Hermione was just starting to wonder if he, too, had fallen asleep, when the kitchen door swung wide and Sirius entered. It was instantly clear what had taken so long; his hair was clean and free of tangles, face shaved smooth and, in place of his wrinkled and slept-in robes, waistcoat and trousers, he wore a suit of fine, expensive wool with matching robes and polished shoes. They were clothes she had not seen before, more traditional than Sirius would have worn except for the most formal of occasions.

He was dressed not to impress but to intimidate.

"Breakfast, dear?" Molly asked, a waiver of uncertainty in her voice. Looking as he did, with those clothes and that deep frown, Sirius was every bit the regal heir of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, and it was enough to put a bit of fear into even his closest friends.

"None for me, thanks," replied Sirius with a dark smile. "I have Order business."

Hermione's blood froze in her veins. Order business? She glanced sharply and meaningfully at Harry, knowing he was the only one who had any concept of how much the phrase consumed her.

"I'll be back for lunch," Sirius promised.

"You'd better be," Molly warned.

With something that would pass for an amused laugh to those who did not know him, Sirius threw a fistful of Floo Powder into the kitchen fireplace. "Diagon Alley."

Without a word to his wife, he was gone.

Moving in unison, Hermione and Harry both flew across the room to the fireplace, threw in their own hasty handfuls of powder and vanished before anyone might utter so much as a word of protest. Glimpses of the strange and foreign rooms flashed before her eyes in the grates she travelled past, but the world finally stilled and she stumbled from the fireplace of the dimly lit pub she knew well enough. The Leaky Cauldron. There were only a few customers at the bar and sitting around tables, none of whom bothered looking her way.

As she scoured the pub, Harry rushed from the grate and nearly knocked her to the floor. "Where is he?"

Hurrying toward the backdoor, Hermione peered around the corner just in time to catch sight of Sirius walking purposefully through the brick archway into Diagon Alley.

"I don't like this," she whispered. "We'll be too exposed."

"We've no choice, Hermione," Harry hissed and moved past her.

"Wait!" She gripped his arm and pulled him back. Reaching into her sleeve, she retrieved her wand and tapped Harry on the head. The Disillusionment charm dripped down his body like a smashed egg and he vanished from sight. She performed the spell on herself. As the spell fell down around her, she felt Harry's invisible hand grip hers just before it disappeared.

"All right," he said. "Let's go."

There was not time enough to observe the oddity of being nearly invisible or to note the strange disconnect she felt as the unseen boy yanked on her hand. Sirius had already moved ahead of them, and they had no idea where he was. They needed to keep visual contact with him or their presence in Diagon Alley was pointless.

"Maybe we ought to split up," muttered Harry as they met the small swirl of shoppers running nervously from store to store. It was far from the crush that usually filled the winding cobbled lane of the Wizarding marketplace, fear of Voldemort and Death Eaters had considerably thinned the crowd, but it was still enough that they had lost sight of Sirius.

"No!" she snapped, startling a witch nearby. "We stick together. You saw the state Remus was in when he came back. Sirius will need all the help he can get." The anxiety that Sirius might return in a similar state to Remus, or not at all, was making her heart pound a frantic rhythm in her chest.

"I don't know… He doesn't look like he was dressed for a fight," the boy reasoned. "I mean, look at him."

"You see him?"

"Heading toward Gringotts."

She looked to the towering marble structure and felt her heart slow as she saw Sirius striding up the stairs, not giving the guards or passers-by a second glance. Her relief was replaced by annoyance. How was banking Order business?

"Hurry!" Harry said and pulled hard on her arm to get her moving. She understood his agitation. If Sirius disappeared into the labyrinthine underground vaults of Gringotts, they would never know his mission and would have no clues to guide them toward figuring out what the Order was up to.

Racing up the stairs and past the frowning goblin guards, Harry and Hermione stood panting in the lobby as Sirius stood irritably a few yards ahead of them. As her breath found its way back into her lungs, she studied the man in front of them. His impatience was not the sort of a man made nervous or anxious by his task or surroundings, but that of someone with far better things to do with his time than wait to be served. She had seen that sort of behaviour before in another man of age and wealth and style – Lucius Malfoy.

A gentle pull of her hand indicated that Harry wanted to get closer. She inched forward slowly, holding her breath and praying her shoes would not squeak on the polished floor.

"Mr Black," a goblin said and gestured him closer to the counter. "How may I assist you today?"

Hermione strained her ears to listen to his reply.

"I am taking over my family vaults," Sirius declared. His voice was the same, but there was something more to it. His tone was different, imperious and commanding. It was a tone she had never heard him use before, one more likely to come from his brother. Sirius was warm and amused and ever-so-slightly condescending in a charming way. This man with his frown and half-lidded eyes and expensive suit and demanding voice was a stranger to her.

This, she knew without being introduced, was Orion Black.

This was a man no one could refuse.

"You have the keys to these vaults, I presume?" the goblin hedged, the tone and appearance of the man before him clearly having some effect.

"No. Nor do I need them."

"Sir—"

"I am rightful heir and will not be denied," Sirius informed the man, his arrogance a slap to the goblin's face. "My brother is dead. My cousins are known supports of Voldemort and are either in- or recently escaped from Azkaban. By Ministry law, they have forfeited their right to their inheritance the moment they committed a crime."

The goblin, an old and wise creature, considered the man before him and nodded slowly. "You are, of course, correct, sir. I will have someone assist you to the vaults right away."

"I need visit only one today," Sirius replied magnanimously.

It took barely two minutes for the diminutive assistant to scurry around the counter and guide Sirius (with Harry and Hermione in tow) to the cart, but it was enough time for a knot of anxiety to form in her chest. What was he after?

Getting into the cart silently took all the skills Hermione had learned after five years of sneaking around Hogwarts with Harry and Ron. She fell back with a muffled 'thud' and sighed her relief as quietly as she dared. The odd, unseen lump bumping her shoulder told her that Harry, too, had made it safely into the cart.

"The Lestrange Family Vault," commanded Sirius.

Lestrange? What could he possibly need in the Lestrange vault?

"Yes, Sir," the goblin responded and gripped the lever, pulling it with all his might to disengage the brake. Hermione was thrown back and only just managed to withhold a scream as the cart accelerated unexpectedly on the rails, dashing and swerving dangerously through the narrow passage, descending ever further into the darkness. It was the worst roller coaster ride she had ever been on and it only ever went down.

"What is that ahead?" Sirius demanded, even nervous he sounded more authoritative than Hermione imagined he could.

"The Thief's Downfall," the goblin replied with something of a nasty grin to his voice, as if he expected to be the one to discover the man was really a fake.

"I thought it was a story told to scare off robbers."

The goblin only smirked.

Hermione gripped Harry's hand, too frightened to care that she might be hurting him. She had never heard of the Thief's Downfall, but she could not imagine it would bode well for either of them. The cart rattled toward the waterfall far more quickly than she would have liked, giving her little time to formulate a plan. She had only enough time to consider if casting a spell to freeze the water or a levitation charm to float herself and Harry around the deluge were realistic options.

There wasn't time enough. The cart hurtled closer and closer, building up speed as it approached the enchanted waters, cutting her reaction time to one minute, half a minute, fifteen seconds, five.

Praying the punishment would be mild, she clenched her eyes and held her breath as the freezing water rained down on them.

"Bloody hell," Sirius spat, his dignity only slightly diminished.

"Thieves!" the goblin wailed and pointed a crooked finger at the stowaways.