For: Hunger Games Round 3
Prompts: Relief, Astray, Frank Longbottom, Hatchet, Knockturn Alley
Circa July 1980, shortly after Neville is born. AU.
The plan had been simple. Watch, observe, report back. They'd even been disguised so as to blend in, though anyone who knew what to look for would recognise them. Nothing should have gone wrong. But it did. It went wrong in a way Sirius never forget.
Dusk settled around the all too quiet streets of Knockturn Alley and it seemed like this mission was going to be for nothing. There was hardly a soul to be seen nor a sound to be heard except for the light pounding of Sirius's and Franks' footsteps against the cobblestone pavement. Sirius found the quietness eerie, but Frank didn't seem to think there was anything wrong. Part of Sirius hoped - however naively - that maybe this meant all the Death Eaters were at home and not at some secret hide out planning their next massacre.
Nothing had astray so far; everything seemed to be going as planned. Sirius couldn't deny the relief he felt. Maybe, just maybe, they could complete a mission with a fight. The Order had lost so many members lately; he didn't want to be burying anyone again so soon; especially not when Frank's son, Neville, had just been born. Sirius hoped for Frank's sake that this night would go off without a hitch.
For a while, it appeared it would. They'd patrolled all of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley and things were quiet. Until they weren't. Seemingly out of nowhere a myriad of spells were shot at them, illuminating the dark like deadly fireworks. It was an ambush. Beside him, Sirius heard Frank swear as a curse hit its mark, but Sirius was too distracted fighting his own Death Eater to look over and see how bad it was. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Frank still standing, still fighting, and that was all that mattered in this moment.
It felt like forever had passed before the Death Eaters apparated out, though not before Sirius took a good few down. Finally taking a moment to actually breathe, Sirius looked over at Frank who was, to Sirius's shock, slumped lifelessly against the wall. Sirius felt his blood run cold, like someone had run a hatchet made of ice through his heart. Trying to keep the bile from rising further in his throat, his shaking hands reached out to find Frank's pulse. At first Sirius thought he just had his fingers in the wrong place because he couldn't feel anything. After all, he was hardly an expert at first aid. Desperately Sirius's fingers moved from Frank's neck, to his wrist and back to his neck again. Still no pulse. He was filled with this cold dread that often accompanied failure, and warm tears prickled in his eyes.
Frank had been Sirius's mentor when Sirius joined the order. By that point, Frank was already an experienced auror where Sirius was barely a kid who was too reckless for his own good. The idea that he was gone...that Sirius survived, Sirius who threw himself into every dangerous situation possible while Frank was careful and cautious, and Frank didn't, was almost sickening. Neville would never know his father; Alice would never get to raise her son with her husband. Frank would never get to watch Neville grow up. It wasn't fair. Why wasn't it him? Frank didn't deserve to die. None of them did. Sirius should have been watching Frank more; he should have had his back like a proper partner. Frank was dead because of him. With a shame filled heart, Sirius fought against the tears that threatened to fall down his pale face and prepared to deliver the body of one his closest friends home.