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UnBroken	By : OddDoll Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Het - Male/Female Views: 6174 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 24
- 25
- 26
Unbroken
By Odd Doll
Chapter 25
Phoebe returned to Chinatown late on Thursday afternoon to retrieve her gold. They had debated various options all week, but had finally come to the optimistic conclusion that Malfoy would expect her to pick it up after some sort of disaster that prompted Phoebe to leave the area. The truth was, it was a terrible risk, but a shopping trip for potion supplies would drain her pocket money. The alternative was to convert Muggle money to galleons, but goblins didn't engage in electronic banking at all. The equivalent amount of paper currency was a staggering pile and would draw attention to her at her Muggle bank, requiring several days' notice to amass the sum. Distrustful of paper money, the goblins would require hours to examine every single note with forgery-detection charms. And if she chose to change small sums, she would have no funds if they were forced to leave the area. Above all else, Severus needed his medication, and that meant they must have gold to purchase the supplies. On this point, Phoebe stood firm. Severus would have his potions.
Office workers of the wizarding district were yet to swarm from their places of employment, and the streets were quiet when she Apparated into Chinatown at 4:30. It was warmer in San Francisco than in the mountains, too warm for Phoebe's black, hooded cloak. Every witch she saw wore a light robe or pastel gown. She felt terribly conspicuous as she darted into the luggage shop. It was far worse, though, when she walked out carrying a magical treasure chest and proceeded straight to the bank.
Now I have to worry about both Malfoy and every holdup artist in the neighborhood.
Feeling as if eyes were boring into her back, she opened Gringott's heavy double doors and went to the reception desk.
"Steven Ripken," she told the goblin seated there.
"Do you have an appointment?" he asked with a sneer. Gringotts' goblins extracted every knut's worth of labor from their employees. Casual visits from friends and family were prohibited.
"No, but it's regarding banking business." She looked around uneasily, but the bank was quiet and all the clerks, human and goblin, seemed preoccupied with their work.
"Who shall I say is calling?"
"Phoebe Baher," she said softly.
The goblin eyed her suspiciously, which is to say he donned his habitual expression.
"One moment."
He wrote a note on a slip of parchment and sealed it into a small cylinder. This he dropped into a hole in his desk. The system reminded Phoebe of the old-fashioned pneumatic tubes that Muggle hospitals once used. Steve once told her that the cylinders traveled from the hole to a receptacle on the recipient's desk by a means similar to a floo network.
A few minutes later, Steve approached her from a back room, his expression grim.
"Phoebe, are you all right?"
"Shh." She looked around, but everyone seemed to be involved in their own business.
Steve took both her hands in his, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. She was growing to like him more all the time.
"I'm fine. We had the idea that we should move things up."
"Well, that's no problem. Your vault has been audited, and the paperwork is in order. Is that a Featherlight Casket?"
"Yes."
"Good. Well, come on. I'll escort you to your vault."
*****
Across the room, a human clerk complained of a sudden dizzy spell. When she hit the floor, a handful of galleons spilled from her hand, rolling across an expanse of marble. Her supervisor ordered her to the break room until she recovered, lest she risk further loss of precious gold.
Once there, she went to the public floo, thinking that if any missing galleons came out of her own pocket, they would be more than offset by what she would earn with this one floo call.
*****
Phoebe scooped handfuls of gold into her new chest. Like most Gringotts vaults, hers was underground, or technically, underwater. Since the land around San Francisco's Chinatown is at sea level, the goblins dug chambers in the silty soil. An ornate gilt elevator descended in a marble-lined shaft. The upper vaults were a warren of steel chambers, protected from decay with spells and charms, and lined with marble for appearances. Below them, more chambers honeycombed directly into the bedrock, and the largest accounts resided there.
Phoebe's account was large enough for her vault to lie in the lowest level above bedrock. Although she knew that the goblins worked strong magic to protect their excavations, she felt sick with dread at being so far below the earth in earthquake-prone San Francisco. Her knees quivered as she moved about her vault.
"This gold is going to be a worry and a pain," she commented to Steve, who waited near the doorway. She scooped the last of her gold into the chest. "Lumos," she said, making a brilliant light on the end of her wand. "Want to make sure I didn't drop any." She bent over and paced the room, looking for galleons.
When she stood, about to seal her chest, Steve said, "Ah, Phoebe, Mike and I have been talking."
"About?" She turned to take in his anxious expression.
"This man you're helping." He knew better than to call Severus by name within the confines of his workplace, even in the depths of the vaults. "Phoebe, he's not worth it. You could be killed, and for what? I know he's a hero, but we've been doing some research on him and his students really hated him. They say he was really evil. He humiliated kids and insulted them. He used to wander the halls at night just so he could catch kids out after curfew and give them detention. And if he didn't like you it was even--"
"Steve, stop."
He stared at her with his mouth open, the next words still on his tongue. "Phoebe, please listen."
"Steve, I know all this. I mean, I didn't know the details, but I knew they hated him. I'm sure that the only reason they let him teach there was because he was a spy. And he hates kids. He told me himself."
"So why are you doing this?"
"I don't have a choice any more, Steve. That woman is after me, and if she doesn't find me, Voldemort will send someone else." She leaned back onto the cold marble shelf that had held her gold. "He thinks I don't understand this, but I do. I'm in deep shit. They want him, bad, and they aren't going to stop until they have him."
Phoebe's voice shook and tears sprang into her eyes. Everything was too real all of a sudden.
"If they think I'm with him, or I know where he is, they will torture me until I talk, and then they will kill me. I could abandon him, but I would still have to run. Do you understand now?"
"Yes, but I think that what Michael said is also true."
"What did Michael say?" She ran a tissue across her nose.
"You would never abandon someone so needy."
She smiled and let out a small, desperate laugh while throwing her arms around him. "I'm glad he has you," she said and meant it.
It felt good to have their differences settled, she thought as they rode the gilt elevator to the surface. It was one less burden on her conscience. Although she was saddened to end her long-term affair with Michael, she rejoiced in their happiness.
Steve insisted upon walking Phoebe to the Apparation point just beyond the bank's wards.
Severus had made her promise to keep her wand in her hand at all times, and so she carried her chest under one arm.
They crossed the black-veined marble floor of the lobby. The bank's massive, iron-bound doors permitted no view of the street.
"You'd think they would plan better than this."
"There are lookouts on the second floor, but they're not so concerned about patrons' gold once it leaves the building." Steve pulled one door open enough to stick his head out and survey the street. "Seems quiet. Come on."
The first floor of Gringotts, San Francisco, was elevated by half a story, and a flight of stone steps led down to the sidewalk. These crossed the face of the building, turning the corners to flank the façade on either side, where narrow alleys lay between Gringotts and its neighbors.
It was from one of these alleyways that the attack came.
At first, Phoebe thought Steve had tripped on the steps as he crumpled to his knees. His wand had been out, but in his right hand had been hovering protectively over Phoebe's back. When he fell, his arm slapped across her back and his dead weight dragged her down with him. Phoebe screamed as she fell forward down the steps. The chest flew from her grasp as she wrapped her arms around her head.
Ironically, the fall saved her. She felt the magical energy of a second Stun Curse whiz over her head as her body slammed into the hard, unyielding stone. Her shoulders and hips, as well as her arms and hands that protected her head, took blow after blow as she rolled down the steps to land on the sidewalk. The impact jarred her, making a sick, wrenching feeling in her gut.
Phoebe crawled around the corner of the steps, opposite from the source of the attack. She heard voices from the other side.
Her father's lessons ran through her mind like dozens of ticker tapes spewing out at once. She tried to pick one thread and follow it, but her thoughts kept straying to the sight of Steve's body sprawled face down on the steps above her. Nothing in her father's character-building exercises ever prepared her for the guilt and panic of seeing a good friend injured. She wasted precious seconds in staring at his prone form, trying to find a way to drag him to safety. They had played war games enough for her to have the lessons burned into her memory, but reality was much harder than leaving her brother lying in a bush, a paint ball splatter on his back and a fake spasm of agony on his face. Steve's body flowed gracefully down the steps in an almost theatrical pose, but it was far uglier than any faces Brad or Charlie made to dramatize their 'deaths.' What should she do?
Phoebe swore. Where was her wand? She peeked around the corner of the steps and saw it lying where it had landed on the sidewalk. She also saw two figures in dark cloaks advancing upon her.
"Accio wand!" she cried with so much force, the wand stung her palm when it smacked into it.
Her allies, she thought. She cast a Stun Curse at her nearest attacker and screamed, "Help! I'm under attack! Help!"
Phoebe looked at Steve once more. There was nothing she could do for him. Looking around, she noted people scrambling for cover up and down the street. Others had their wands out and were moving toward the bank. Steve should have help soon. Her attackers, she saw, had dodged her curse, but they slowed their advance. Phoebe threw two more curses and they ducked behind two ancient oaks that grew at the edge of the sidewalk.
A few feet behind Phoebe, a thin brass line, embedded in the pavement, marked the edge of Gringotts' property and the limit of any anti-Apparation spells. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a wand raised, and she ducked below the level of the steps. Her scalp prickled as a curse flew overhead.
Do not get taken. If they caught her, it was all over for both her and Severus. With a last, regretful look at Steve, she scattered a handful of Stupefy curses toward her attackers, and then dove for the brass line. As soon as she rolled over it, she Disapparated.
*****
Severus was pouring tea in the kitchen when he heard the pop of Phoebe Apparating into the living room.
"Phoebe?" When she didn't answer, he went to find her huddled on the carpet in the space between the back of the couch and the glass doors to the deck. She stared up at him with wide eyes, her mouth open in shock. Her robes were torn and blood trickled from a gash on the back of her left hand. He knelt beside her shaking form.
"What happened? Are you hurt?" Her composure dissolved right before his eyes. As the adrenalin drained from her body, she collapsed into a ball and sobbed.
"Phoebe? What happened?"
Her sobs rasped from her throat, and her body shook so violently it seemed as if any moment she would fly apart. Useless, incompetent to handle another's emotional needs, afraid to touch her, though she clearly needed comfort, Severus just knelt there for several moments.
Phoebe's shaking did not subside, and Severus worried about shock. Looking up, he saw the edge of one of her quilts hanging over the back of the sofa. He pulled it down, and enfolded her in it. His arms circled her as he wrapped the quilt around her. The extra layer of fabric between them gave him the courage to pull her heaving body to his. He settled his back against the sofa and let her curl up against his side. They sat like that for some time while Severus worried about a dozen different things amidst the distractions of her perfume, the silkiness of the locks of hair that brushed his neck, and the weight of her body against his.
By the time she was calm enough to take a tissue from her pocket and noisily blow her nose, he was ready to listen. Above all else, just let her tell her story. He would not pass judgment if she had erred. He would not say 'I told you so' or demand that they change locations. He would not say anything. All that could wait until tomorrow, when they were both calmer. He would keep his own mouth shut, lest he find his foot in it again.
Phoebe raised her head and then leaned back, shifting her body until she sat beside him, her knees raised toward her chest underneath the quilt. She was still so close that their hips touched. He could smell her strawberry shampoo, and he felt the warmth of her body. It made Severus edgy in a way reminiscent of his adolescent awkwardness. He gritted his teeth and fought the urge to move aside.
"What happened?" he said as gently as he could manage.
"We were attacked, coming out of the bank." She told him her story, and he was pleased with her reactions.
"I didn't know you already knew some offensive curses."
"Phil made me learn some. He said that in my line of work I should be prepared for the worst." She blotted her nose with the sodden wad of tissue. "Severus, I had to leave Steve."
He stared at his legs, stretched out before him while he considered this. "His worst threat came from the stone staircase, rather than the curse. It would have been a mild one to subdue you until you could be taken elsewhere. They need you alive. Under no circumstances would they have wanted you harmed. It really was a stupid place to launch an attack."
She thought for a moment. "If it had been me, I would have put a person on each side and attacked when I reached the bottom. There were only a few feet before the property line, but it would be enough. And the way they came around the steps as bold as can be, it was as if they never expected me to fight back. The whole thing was rather clumsy."
"Did you see who they were?"
"They wore cloaks with deep hoods."
"Think. Close your eyes and remember." He waited for her to comply, and then said, "How did they move? Think of their stride."
"I think...the one in front was definitely a man."
"Did you see their feet, or their hands? Those can be telling details."
"They raised their wands to curse me." Her eyes flew open. "They were both men."
"Not the Malfoys, then."
Phoebe dropped her head to her knees. "Oh,God. Steve."
He waited while she cried a little more. After a few minutes she sat up and stared off into the darkened window. Her mouth was set in a grim line, but she seemed calm.
Severus stood and held out a hand. "Let's see to that cut."
She trailed him down the hall. "What do you think happened, Severus?"
"Someone recognized you."
"Even in my cloak?"
That gave him pause. "Did you lower the hood?"
"Yes. In the luggage shop, and the bank. The first aid kit is in my trunk," she added, distractedly.
Severus could not suppress a groan.
"I cleaned it. I wonder what happened to my chest."
"I imagine the goblins were on that pretty quick."
"Great, then I'll never see it again."
Severus followed her into the master bath. "Don't be so sure. Goblins are greedy and suspicious, but they're not thieves. Humans would never trust them with their gold if they were."
"I never thought about it that way."
Phoebe winced as she sat on the counter. "I'll be covered with bruises tomorrow."
"I think we have the ingredients for a remedy." He turned on the tap. "Put your hand under that." This is easy. He had enough experience patching up students after classroom accidents to almost qualify as a nurse.
The first aid kit revealed a mixture of wizard and Muggle remedies. "How is it that you manage to be prepared for everything," he muttered as he extracted a small flask labeled Parcher's Cleansing Potion.
"It's something you can learn. Take a given set of variables, and permutate the outcomes, and plan accordingly. It's never foolproof, but for everyday situations you can come pretty close."
He turned off the water and patted her wound with sterile gauze. "Does anxiety have anything to do with it?"
She let out a puff of breath. "Yes. I told you. I order my world just so. It helps calm me if I think I'm prepared for anything. That's why I took so much stuff with me." She changed the subject. "Who do you think attacked us?"
"I've already speculated that the local cell is helping them. They found Michael pretty fast, almost as if they have a source."
"Someone I know?"
"Probably."
"Someone I know personally betrayed me?" Part shock, part doubt. "I wish you hadn't said that. Now it's going to drive me crazy."
"As for the bank, they probably did know you were coming and had a source watching for you. I think someone saw you and contacted the locals." She winced as he daubed her cut with an antiseptic-soaked gauze. "For whatever reason, they didn't have time to contact the Malfoys, so they sent whoever was available."
"Not their best."
"Yes, well, just because a man is ruthless enough to throw curses around doesn't mean he can do it effectively. It requires training, just like any other martial art."
Severus could feel her eyes on him as he measured and cut a bandage. He imagined her speculating about his own dubious past. His hands moved in front of him, feeling as if they belonged to someone else as he wondered how harshly she might judge him now that she had tasted the ruthlessness of Voldemort's army. When she spoke, though, she changed the subject.
"I need to know if he's all right," she said in a low voice.
"Phoebe, you must not go back there. I forbid it."
"Severus..." Her voice rang with a note of warning, but when he looked in her face, he saw that her eyes were filled with pain. He lowered her half-bandaged hand.
"Phoebe, you did everything correctly. You couldn't have taken any actions other than the ones you chose. Except for wrong ones." Her eyes blurred with tears. He had to look away and picked up her hand to resume bandaging it while he spoke. "Although I would never have wished for this to happen, I'm relieved now that it has."
Severus gave her hand back to her and stood back from the counter.
"You are a very strong woman, Phoebe. I knew that all along, but you have exceeded my expectations. You are level-headed and resourceful, and I'm much more optimistic about our chances of survival."
The tears fell silently this time. He didn't understand it, but the emotions of other people had always been a mystery to him.
"I know a soak for your bruises. Why don't I prepare it? Then you can rest for a few hours and go to Los Angeles. You can find a public floo there and call your friends. I'm sure they're as worried about you as you are about Steve."
Phoebe hopped down from the counter and hugged him.
"Thank you, Severus."
"You're welcome," he said in a startled voice, while thinking, Merlin's whiskers, I didn't bungle it.
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UnBroken