Puzzled Pride

“Nothing whets the intelligence more than a passionate suspicion, nothing develops all the faculties of an immature mind more than a trail running away into the dark.” Peter Pettigrew. (Wormtail). 19 & Lost.

[obumbravit-animus]

As long as there had been an end to any beginning…. they had ridden. 

Brothers old as brothers could be, cold as brothers could be, infinitely caring (at least in their own special ways) as only brothers can be. They were the final period on life… a punctuation mark on the entirety of human existence, and one day… on the entire world.

Pestilence loved the patterns. The simple repetition of mistakes that Humanity made over and over, never learning from them. It was a waltz he danced well, his older brothers as his partners, for their particular truths had predated his, not by much, but still enough for War to remind him that he was the baby. 

Raising his face to the skies, he sniffed deeply, running his bony fingers through his horse’s white mane. Tainted meat was hitting shelves in Peoria, mercury-ridden sushi was being served in Tokyo, industrial sludge had permeated the water table of a small German town in fatal amounts. Pestilence smiled viciously and pushed… exerting the force of his immortal will over these events, imbuing them with the toxicity of Poison Eternal. 

There was grace present as he slid down from his mount, gliding over grass that grew rotten and sick with his every step, pausing briefly to squeeze Famine’s skeletal hand (“eat something, brother. You’re just wasting away.”) before stopping next to his favorite brother, the one he loved more than he loved disease and poison, the one he had spent long eternities giving souls to; The Rider on the Pale Horse. 

Death.

"Before the sun sets I will gift you an even hundred thousand, brother. By the end of the week, a million." 

He was the oldest of them all, and the most inescapable. They all answered to him and he loved them for it. Pestilence thought a smile crossed that immortal face and that was enough for him. White cloak billowing clouds of poison behind him he strode back to his horse and mounted up, turning to face his family.

"Where to, brothers?"

War grinned, a smile of sharp knives and laughter that sounded like the clamor of so many bullets. Famine wheezed a chuckle out, black robes flattening themselves against ribs that jutted too far from skin drawn too tight. Death drew himself up tall, a cold sun beaming down on his face. His voice was quiet but final, every word a carving in cold granite, every pause a requiem. 

"We ride to the edge of eternity, as we always have. May all kneel before the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse."

Pestilence grinned and spurred his horse onward, feeling the wind draw every deadly virus and bacteria from his skin and spread it to the world. 

This was his life.

Death was his love. 

And he would give him the withered corpses of Humanity until they stood alone atop a mountain of bodies. 

As it was in the Beginning… so would it be in the End.

[obumbravit-animus]

To Be Forged Anew || Peter & Severus

[deatheatersnape-blog]

"Creative," Severus said, scanning the small text of the menu and looking for something that caught his fancy. "Did you learn that one from Potter? He was always the creative one when it came to insults if I remember correctly," Of course he remembered correctly. Ringleader, asshole, James Potter. He shrugged Peter’s insult off though, not in the least bit bothered by it. If Peter wanted to get under his skin he was going to have to try much, much harder than that. Old insults from third year simply bounced right off. If James had given him anything it was a tough skin.

Snape chuckled at Peter’s response, amused by his wit. He’d never spent much time with him, always following James around, and his replies amused him. He hadn’t expected that out of Peter. quirking his head to the side he smiled at him, finally taking his eyes off the menu and looking at Peter.

"Only mostly guarantee? What a shame. Here I thought you were the more trustworthy one," Severus rolled his eyes and waved over a waitress with a small wave. Ordering his own cup of coffee he resumed looking across the table at Peter. "Where are your friends? Meeting you here? Odd place to meet I think. A little small." Severus hardly ever saw Peter without the others, in fact he half expected to hear the door open and hear James’s or Remus’s laughter at any moment.

[obumbravit-animus]

"Though it may shock you, Severus, I am actually capable of coming up with my own insults." He couldn't even fathom why Snape had actually taken a seat at the table with him. They weren't friends, they were barely acquaintances and if he could actually bring himself to care about the skinny man across the table they could probably be enemies. But really..... he just didn't care. 

"If you think I am the more trustworthy of the four of us, then you're more stupid than I gave you credit for. Which is a truly marvelous accomplishment. I didn't think I could think less of you Severus and yet... here we are."

He arched an eyebrow and looked down at the steaming mug in front of him, "You know we aren't actually joined at the hip, correct? I am my own autonomous being and am capable of getting a cup of coffee on my own. What're you doing here? Stuck here now that your usual spots are closed?"

[obumbravit-animus]

To Be Forged Anew || Peter & Lily

[lilyoftheorder]

A week had passed by at a snail’s pace and Lily found herself more anxious with every day.

The whispers and secret chats within the halls of the Ministry had subsided now that the new Minister had been elected, but now it was more of a waiting game to see what the next dose of gossip would be. The elected Minister wasn’t Lily’s choice in the slightest, but anyone who was for the cause was a top candidate on her list of favorite people, so now she just had to wait and see if he’d live up to his word. The new curfew and restrictions on everyone were a bit of a downer, but as far as safety was concerned, Lily could make do with occasionally being searched as long as it saved lives in the long run.

Instead of heading back to headquarters to check in for the time being, Lily found herself turning down the endless streets until she came across Magi Mugs- the warmth practically inviting her in as soon as she opened the door and heard the bell ring as it knocked against the wood doorframe. She contemplated going to the counter and buying a cup of coffee before she headed out for the night, but Peter Pettigrew situated in the corner on his own caught her eye first. He was a friend that usually liked to keep to himself it seemed, and now that he had ventured out in the open Lily was going to take the opportunity to try to at least catch up with him outside of other duties they had.

As soon as she approached the booth, she heard Peter respond in an almost annoyed tone which fueled the girl’s desire to talk to him even more. “Now I’m offended Peter, I thought we had something special between us. No tormenting included.” she responded with a smirk on her face as she slid into the booth across from him. She felt a bit out of place without a cup of something to drink, but she figured she could work on that later, “Glad to see you’ve ventured out, but surprised to see you here.”

[obumbravit-animus]

Peter did not particularly like Lily Evans. 

He could try to doctor it up. Tell himself that it was because she was a bad soldier, or a poor friend, or detrimental to the cause. But he couldn't ever entirely lie to himself. He simply didn't like her because James looked at her the way Peter had always dreamed in the darkest of nights that James would look at him; and it ate him up inside. 

Looking over the top of his glasses he pointedly shut the notebook he'd been writing in. She was clever. Annoyingly so... and Peter felt like taking no risks when it came to someone cracking his code. "Special between us, Evans?" The coffee tasted a little more bitter now that she was across from him, but for the sake of his friend he choked it down, "I think you might have been reading between the lines a little more than you ought to have been."

She told the truth. The corner booth of a coffee shop was the last place that anyone expected to see him, but, there he was, "If Moody prodded me one more time and told me I was too slowly "gathering vital intel for our cause" I was going to set him on fire. Where's his constant vigilance going to be then?" He sighed and looked across the table, "My usual haunts are closed. So I had to settle for this. What're you doing here?"

[mrprxngspxtter-blog]

James let out  deep sigh. The mention of those who died bringing the clear images of faces with eyes wide open and limbs in awkward position to his mind, making his hands shook slightly. Screams of help and pain rang in his ears, the smell of blood filling his nose. But he wasn’t there anymore. He was with Peter at the roof of the Order’s headquarters, smoking a cigarette that damn it, had fallen from his stupidly shaking fingers.

"I saw them too…" He mumbled, frowning lightly. And I was happy not to see your face on those bodies, happy that Sirius, Remus, Lily, Molly…People I love weren’t there. But he kept those thoughts to himself because it was selfish of him to think that way and he couldn’t be that way while fighting a war. All lives mattered. He knew that but he couldn’t help it…The relieve he felt when the corpses were not his friends, his family. “And it’d be foolish to believe I won’t see more.” He looked at Peter and did his best to smile, running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Don’t worry, old friend." He said in a teasing tone. "I’ll wash your hair and make sure not blood is left." He assured, pulling his hand away.  

 ”I like that petty bullshit…” He said, sounding like a child making a tantrum. Part of him knew that Peter was right, that those petty things didn’t matter, that eating  stupid birthday cake, opening presents, a good game of quidditch, eating a Florean Fortescue’s ice cream…Those things were not important. Not when they ere fighting a way but James couldn’t stop himself from craving them.

"I don’t know about your abilities as a soldier or as a spy but you’re  damn good friend. But I know you’ll be an excellent whatever if you put your mind to it." He assured and  took out a cigarette and started playing with it between his finger, a smile appearing in his lips at the descriptions Peter was giving. “And you’re the oxygen the brain needs, the calm for the fury and the blood for the heart. We’d all be useless without you.” He finished making a flower out of the cigarette and handed it to his friend. “Happy Birthday, Peter.” It was a silly present and he was planning on giving Peter something else but for now the little flower would have to do. “And I promise to try my best, okay?”

[obumbravit-animus]

Peter sighed and patted James' knee, "You like that petty bullshit, Prongs, because you're this glorious shining light of goodness in the face of all the ridiculous shit life has thrown at us recently." He pulled his hand back quickly, unwilling to touch anybody more than necessary, especially the man he held such a massive amount of unrequited affection for; best friend or no. 

There was a head shake, and half of a smile at James' declaration. Again with the shining light of goodness. It had always been James who had fought, at least openly, to reiterate the fact that Peter definitely belonged in the Marauders. Sirius and Remus did the same, in their own quieter ways, like Sirius forcing Peter to sleep and standing guard until he did, or Remus showing up in the middle of the night just when he knew Peter would be running out of coffee. But James, James had always been the loud one, declaring in strident tones that Peter Hye Pettigrew was a Marauder, and nothing in the world could change that. 

Peter was lucky beyond words.... and it made the fact that he didn't belong with them even worse.

"You don't need to know much. I'm a shit soldier... but being able to turn into a rat does make overhearing what I'm not supposed to easier. But I can do better. I will do better." He laughed into the dark night, and was surprised to find that he couldn't remember what his laugh sounded like. "Those are really flowery words there, Casanova, but you all wouldn't be useless without me. You would have had a helluva lot more detentions in school without me to get you out of shit. Speaking of..... I've got a bill for you. For all the times I saved your arse." Tucking the flower into the buttonhole of his vest he headbutted James in the shoulder. "Your best is all I can ask. And it's always been good enough."

[obumbravit-animus]

To Be Forged Anew || Peter & Severus

[deatheatersnape-blog]

With Knockturn alley closed off Severus found himself stuck shopping in Diagon Alley, which wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. He was better acquainted with the shops in Knockturn more out of habit to keep up appearances rather than anything else…plus they also tended to stock the less than legal potions ingredients that Severus sometimes found useful in his edited potions. He’d have to make do. The clean out wouldn’t take long and even though it bothered him, deep down, he knew Knockturn Alley would go back to normal soon enough. It always did. 

But the closing of Knockturn Alley also inhibited many of Severus’s haunts when he wanted to be seen but not bothered out of commission. That bothered him. When he hadn’t been out doing the Dark Lord’s bidding he’d been scouting Diagon Alley for potential replacements. So far, his search had come up with almost nothing except for an odd little place called Magi Mugs. Off the road and squirreled away it worked for the basic needs. Seen but not bothered.

And here he was, opening the door and walking in. The place smelled nice, a bonus, and looked relatively under populated, another bonus. All was good until he saw Peter Pettigrew in the corner. Severus’s face darkened but he wasn’t going to act like a scared child and dart out the door either. Like hell he’d let him report that back to his cohorts. Walking towards Peter’s booth Snape shot Peter a smirk. 

"Lucky day? Perhaps," Slipping into the booth opposite Peter Snape reached for a nearby menu. Of all of the Marauders Peter and Remus were the ones he was least worried about running into. Without Potter and Black to flank them Severus was more than positive they were no threat to him. "What do you recommend I try?"

[obumbravit-animus]

Severus Snape did not rate highly on Peter's list of potential threats; a list carefully coded and hidden back in the Order's library; three pages of cramped red ink detailing who would do the most damage to him. 

He didn't even make the back of the napkin Peter occasionally wrote wish lists for imprisonment on. 

Snape was, as he had always been, more of a nuisance than anything else. In school Peter had hated him on principle. He'd been an enemy of James and therefor he was an enemy of Peter's. But as the lanky potion's genius settled in on the other side of the booth, Peter grinned internally. Nuisance though he'd been, he'd always overlooked Peter, and that always worked to his advantage. "Where you are concerned, Severus, there has only ever been ill-luck, and ill-styled hair. Still using Flobberworm mucus as pomade, I see."

He sighed and sipped his coffee, "I'd recommend you try the door. There's nobody here to impress, or to try to trick into thinking that you and I are shining examples of wizarding solidarity. I prefer to be alone, and you are interfering with that." He set the mug down and flipped a page in his book, "but if you are staying, the coffee isn't bad. I can even mostly guarantee I won't poison it. More from boredom than anything else."

[obumbravit-animus]

To Be Forged Anew || Peter & Open

He was so done with moping.

It'd been a week since the party had gone so horribly awry, a new Minister had been elected, and Peter had grown bored with holing up in the Order's library to collate reports and code new ideas. He'd promised himself and his brothers that he'd be stronger, be better than he had been, and he couldn't achieve that trapped inside. Also Molly kept eyeing him with a singular expression that he had learned meant she was on the verge of an intervention. Molly's interventions always involved more food than he was comfortable with, and he was not eager to be told that he could find a nice girl if he wanted to. 

There weren't a large number of places he could go in Wizarding London to be inconspicuous, particularly since the new Minister had closed off Knockturn Alley until further notice. He prayed that Magi Mugs was far enough off the beaten path where he could chainsmoke, read, and down more caffeine than was strictly necessary, but as he sat in his corner booth, steaming mug of coffee in front of him, he heard the bell above the door jangle and looked up to see a familiar face coming through the door. 

No rest for the wicked, he guessed.

As the approached the booth he pushed his glasses up on his nose and sighed, "Is there a particular reason you're coming over here? Or is it just my lucky day to be tormented."

[vindicem-mary]

Mary needed to get out. Mad Eye had been keeping close tabs on all the Order members since Weymouth’s, and the fact that every time he found her, she’s been in nearly the exact same spot in her apartment hadn’t sat well with him. “I don’t need my soldiers going stir crazy.” He’d grumbled before slamming the door on his way out; Moody’s suggested method of telling her that if he found her on her couch one more time, he’d drag her out himself. So rather than fight him off, Mary pulled herself from her couch, and headed to Diagon Alley. There was nothing there that she needed, but rumor had it that fresh air did you good, and frankly, Mary could use some good in her life.

Slug & Jigger’s seemed like her best bet, as book stores were never her thing, and she wasn’t in need of robes or an owl. Her fingers traced differed herbs and objects, wondering if anything was necessary, or what might come in handy down the road. Deciding against it Mary turned, slightly jumping when someone was close enough that she almost turned right into them. “Bloody hell, how long have you been standing there?”

[obumbravit-animus]

After talking to the other Marauders after the fiasco at the Minister's, Peter had been feeling... out of sorts. His skin itched like it didn't fit properly and as a result of that he'd taken to wandering around Diagon Alley when he wasn't at work or doing work for the Order. He couldn't bear the glances at him like people didn't know if he could handle this life, anymore. He was growing, that was all that mattered.

As he wandered through the various shops like a shadow he felt irked by the fact that none of them had anything that made him feel even vaguely settled and in place. But as he hipchecked the door to Slug & Jigger's open, arms already full with books and supplies he'd bought at previous stores he saw a familiar head of dark hair and grinned broadly. Sneaking up behind her he laughed broadly as Mary jumped, "Not that long... just got here. But then I saw you and just had to say hello."

[mrprxngspxtter-blog]

James was glad that his odd joke had gotten a smile out of Peter. It was nice to know that even in dark times he was still able to make his friend smile, that his friends were still able to smile despite everything. Little things, he had learned, kept him sane, hopeful for the future.

The smile that had appeared on his lips, however, went away upon hearing Peter’s next words. That wasn’t something he wanted to hear, it wasn’t something he should be hearing. In many ways, they were just kids and they should make a big deal out of birthdays, they should be able to enjoy those things. James understood that there was a war, he understood that there were other important things but wasn’t a better life what they were fighting for?

"No. I don’t want that." And he pouted, like a child making a tantrum because he could be like that with his friends, he could allow himself to be childish and do dumb and inappropriate jokes. "I want to celebrate foolish holidays and eat cake and give you a bloody present." He frowned and looked at Peter. "What’s the point of getting out of this alive if we are not living, Peter? If we let this war take over every aspect of our lives…What will be left of us when it’s over?"

[obumbravit-animus]

Peter watched sadly as the smile he'd been enamored with for years disappeared from the face he loved. They all smiled less these days; drank more, said fewer and fewer words, shared fewer and fewer dreams, sighed alone more than they used to. Peter used to thought that war always had one clear victor... but as he watched this conflict take its toll on friends and enemies both he realized that as far as he was concerned, every victory was a Pyrrhic victory. 

"The point, old friend, is that when we make it out alive we can start living again." He shook his head gently and punched James in the leg, "I watched people I knew... people we'd gone to school with get torn half. I think I've still got blood in my hair and if I know one thing for sure it's that I don't have time for the petty bullshit of just living anymore. I'm not a good soldier, and I'm only a passable spy. But fuck James.... that's going to fucking change."

Sighing again he nudged his friend before lighting another cigarette, "you always had the biggest heart of the four of us. Remus, the brain. Sirius, the fury, you.... the heart. Promise me war won't change that about you."

[stellavagus-blog]

 ”I honestly don’t know if you can teach cats not to chase mice bro- or rats for that matter. Maybe you shouldn’t transform around our kid - he’ll just get ideas.,” he smiled, or tried to, but it didn’t reach his eyes and he knew it. He listened to Peter’s litany of their faults, and shook his head.

They were a motley crew, that was for sure. Sirius was becoming far more aware that he was a burgeoning threat to those he loved with his drinking - and Pete tended to close off rather than tell them when he was crumbling under serious issues. As for James and Remus? They’d been so distant lately, Sirius was beginning to wonder if they had forgotten their childhood vows of botherhood.

Sirius was about to respond to Wormtail’s assesment of them all, when he asked the question, and Sirius fell silent, dumbfounded.

"I never …," he paused, "I never thought about it - but I don’t suppose there’s anyway to say we didn’t. Look at us," he shurgged, "I’ve never seen a group of idiots more damned than us four."

[obumbravit-animus]

"I am almost entirely certain that you're teaching him to do it, and as penance for that next time you black out I'm writing on you in permanent ink."

He'd noticed recently, that when the topic of the Marauders came up, they had started to speak in quieter tones, as if the careful brotherhood they had formed so many years ago would shatter under anything louder than a murmur. What he'd said had been true. They were all filled with faults and once upon a time their brotherhood had been enough to keep them afloat despite the faults. But now that they all seemed to be slowly drifting into their own personal forms of darkness... Peter wondered if it was enough anymore.

"We were so desperate to become animals, so Remus would never have to spend another moon alone... I wonder if we paid for that with humanity. With some portion of our hearts and souls that.... made us people. Please don't mistake me. I would do it a thousand times over so Moony wouldn't have to be alone, but..."

He fell silent for a moment, picking at a nail bed before continuing in little more than a whisper, "I used to think.... when we were at school..... that it was my punishment for transforming. That... I was the way I am because I was broken. We'd become Animagi and that was the price I had to pay for it.... that now I was this.... freak, broken and just plain wrong because I'd played with magic I shouldn't have. For almost half my life I've wanted so desperately to be like you three... like my brothers. But I'm always the odd one out because of that."

Straightening his back Peter looked Sirius in the eye, "We are damned. We were damned before the war, and the war did nothing but hurry us towards that inevitability." He swallowed hard, "I don't know how to hold all the pieces together anymore."

[linccln-blog]

Comfort in the Undefined || Remus&Peter

          Making plans to spend time with Peter was one of the best ideas that Remus had had in a long while. It wasn’t that he was lonely — he had the people with the Order if he wanted to talk — but just talking to anyone wasn’t the same as talking to his best friend. Sending that owl was something that he certainly would not regret. All he had to do now was wait until Peter got off of work; he might have arrived to Flourish and Blotts a little early in his excitement to see his friend for more than a few minutes at a time. It was a small inconvenience though for he didn’t mind looking through the books while he waited.

          He stepped through the familiar doors prepared to wait at least a little while until the shift was over. There were leagues of books to look through; he could distract himself for hours if he needed to, but unfortunately that was not the case. Or fortunately, he couldn’t really decide. While he’d love to spend the time looking through the books for ages, he also desperately needed to spend time with Peter, just being himself and relaxing.

          He waved at his friend, gesturing in what he hoped came off as a, “take as long as you need, I’ll be over here,” kind of hand gesture before disappearing into the shelves. Whenever Peter was done, he could come find him.

[obumbravit-animus]

It had been a long day. 

Between customers squabbling with each other, squabbling with their children, and screaming at him because the shop had sold out of books on defensive magic virtually overnight, Peter was about ready to burn the place to the ground and say fuck it all.

But the thing that kept him going through the day was the Remus was coming at the end of it.

He'd been thrilled when the owl came, asking if he wanted to spend the day together. He loved Remus dearly. They'd been through so much and everything still felt as effortless as the first day they'd become friends when they were eleven years old. So when the tall lanky Marauder came through the door to the shop, Peter felt his face split with a grin.

Ushering the last of the customers out into the gloom of the dying day he locked the doors, and turned back to his brother, "Now that they're all going to complain to someone else and I don't have to listen to it.... hello."

[gideon-the-fool-blog]

On Renewed Fervor and a Craving for Cookies

Up until that night, this war never actually felt all that real. Well, of course it was real. People were getting hurt, killed even. Entire families were snuffed out overnight as if they never existed; agents eavesdropped on villainous meetings and passed word of their findings in dark alleyways – the sort of shit most people only ever expect to hear about in works of fiction, or grandparent’s war stories. But this was all happening around Gideon now. He was in those stories. He was one of those agents.

It wasn’t frightening, at least not in the usual context. Sure, the fact that at any given moment your life could be ended was undoubtedly accompanied by a certain amount of healthy fear. That was good fear, though. The kind that gets your blood pumping and lets you react at lightning speed when the time called for it. Instinct had kicked in when the giants attacked, and Gideon had sprung into action, helping anyone he could find to escape, all the while searching for his brother. Truthfully, it was energizing to finally be involved in some action. No way in hell he’d be talking about that during the next debriefing, but he couldn’t deny himself the simple pleasure of actually being of use for the cause.

He and Fabian hadn’t spoken much since that night, which wasn’t that unusual considering all of the planning and counter-maneuvering that had to be done. Still, traversing the Order headquarter on a daily basis, he usually bumped into his brother at least half a dozen times (for the most part unintentionally). Considering there was no task that required his attention for the time being, he decided to wander about and see if he could find his other half. Who knows, maybe he’d even stumble into a good position to eavesdrop on the latest mission reports, which he had been temporarily banned from when he asked if there would be baked goods last week. 

[obumbravit-animus]

There was still so much work to be done. 

The events of the late Minister's ill-fated party still echoed vividly in his head; the screams and the panic, the body-parts and the corpses. Peter hadn't been sleeping well since then, which on the one hand was bad, because a sleepy spy is a sloppy spy, and a sloppy spy quickly becomes a dead or tortured spy. But on the other, it had afforded him the opportunity to work more fervently on his reinvention. The rewriting of his journals, in a new code, had taken some time, but it was finished finally, and the small sanctuary of his library was back in order, and slowly but surely Peter was getting back into his form... and his new self. 

The sound of footsteps outside the library door made him raise his head, setting the quill down carefully and padding towards door, carefully peering through the key hole before heaving a heavy sigh and opening the door a crack, leaning out into the hall and looking up at Gideon. An eye roll telegraphed exactly how happy he was to have an interloper invading his productive evening. "Gideon.... for the record there are no baked goods in the library. It's also the middle of the night. What are you doing skulking around?"

[stellavagus-blog]

Sirius caught the napkin, and grinned back - relieved he could still make Wormtail smile even with everything that had happened and all they had seen in the past night, “Well, I mean, the cat’s pretty great. Dunno about the rest of it.”

Sirius was more than aware that there was no way the four of them would make it through this war intact. They were too close to each other, too intwined to not be torn apart - and each and every one of them too reckless not to end up injured and alone. But for now, they had this and they had each other. Sirius nodded as Peter’s words echoed his thoughts, “Only if you help me.”

Sirius hesitated before speaking again, “Pete …,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair, “My Dad’s dead. And … Mary loves me, but thinks I blame her for it. Ted thinks I’m an alcoholic, and Molly transformed because of me. I’ve fucked it all up mate - and I dunno what to do.”

[obumbravit-animus]

"The cat's amazing, but if you could teach our kid not to eat Daddy when he's in rat form that would just be the tops, Pad. Tiny fucker tried to devour me the other day."

Peter watched with sorrow as Sirius' face lost its smile and transformed into the stoic and blocked off face he'd been wearing more and more frequently these days. "You know I'll help you with anything and everything you need. From now until the end of time."

The words hit him square in the heart, as any pain his brothers felt did. He listened carefully and weighed his words before speaking again. "Well.... I cannot say I mourn your father. Nor will I ever. It's no great secret that Mary loves you, at least not to those of us watching.... and Sirius.... you are an alcoholic. You're an alcoholic douche, like I'm an asshole who smokes like a chimney, Remus is a motherfucker with an attitude problem, and James is a dickbag who laughs to loud and thinks too hard. We're all fucked up."

He fell silent for a moment, thinking carefully before continuing, "I've got a question. Do you think that..... when we did what did for Remus, to be better friends, it had a cost? We wanted so much more... did we become less because of it? None of us are normal. Not even before the war made us.... grow so much faster."

"Did we fuck ourselves over?"

[vindicem-mary]

He was getting comfortable, and there was a small sense of accomplishment that Mary had actually broken the wall down enough that he was willing to open up. “Didn’t intend to, but you did, so we’re gonna talk about it.” There was a small smile, as Mary mimicked him, folding her own legs up underneath her. “Right, because I’m such a gossiper. Besides, the majority of my conversations don’t usually revolve around your love life, surprisingly.” Her tone teased, but Mary had seen what the world had done to Marlene, and she’d rather die than see another one of her friends go through the same pain that Marlene had. “Your secret is safe with me, Pete.”

"I mean, I can’t force you to talk about it. You did bring it up, because clearly I’m the first person people around here come to with their deepest darkest secrets. Just think it’s a funny time to tell me when we’re on a date. And here I thought things were going so well.”

[obumbravit-animus]

Peter casually twirled a pen between his fingers, looking across the tiny room at Mary. He could dance around the issue, spin webs with his words, layer lies and quarter-truths. It was the way of his world, and he operated within it well. But somehow, in the book-lined sanctuary of his room, he felt that the truth could be laid bare, if only because after the events of the last week, he trusted Mary beyond question. 

"You're a damn fool if you thought this was an actual date. You know me, Mary. Gay or no.... the Order's eternal virgin." He sighed set the pen down, looking Mary in the eyes, "Not my deepest darkest secret.... but it's one that it took a long time to adjust to." 

[stellavagus-blog]

Sirius understood what Peter was saying, hidden beneath the nostalgia and the smiles was something deeper, something a little darker. Something was hurting his brother. There was something there that was bothering him far more than just his worry that he hadn’t done enough at the attack, or even just the attack itself.

“Eight cupcakes,” Sirius murmured, “Eight years. Eight years I’ve known you delinquents and look where it all got me,” he grinned at Pete, “You know I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Sirius nodded, “We did it together, and that’s all that matters – you know that. As long as we’re alive, the four of us, we can keep going. And it’s not … it doesn’t matter if it’s a good direction, Wormtail. It’s our lives. This is where they’ve taken us and brooding on the past won’t change a damn thing or make our decisions prettier in the full light.”

He was fully aware of the hypocrisy in his words, but it didn’t matter.  He knew how to tell people what they wanted to hear, and he was damn good at it, “Can’t dwell on what’s done, right? Just know that we’ve gotta do better.”

[obumbravit-animus]

Laughing brightly, Peter through a wadded up napkin across the kitchen, "Eight years got you a bunch of narrow escapes, a shitty apartment, a profoundly ill-groomed animal form, and a tiny cat with your gay best friend. If that's not living, mate.... I don't know what is."

One day there was a conversation they would have to have, not over cupcakes but vodka.... or drawn wands. There was a part of Peter that wanted that conversation, the utter honesty that it would bring, even if it brought destruction with it. But a much larger part of him wanted to avoid it, to stay in the warm shadow of his older brother for as long as he could, before they inevitably fell apart.

"We did do it together. All the trouble, all the triumph, becoming animals.... becoming men. I don't think any of us would have turned out like this, or anything even remotely close to this if we hadn't had each other."

He let the silence draw out for a long minute before looking across the room at his brother, "You'll help me do better." It wasn't a question. A statement of fact. 

He needed the help. 

[mrprxngspxtter-blog]

"Mm, yes. What a party." James said, looking towards the city. Everyone seemed so unaware of the war that was taking place, so unaware of the lives lost, of the dead bodies with eyes wide open and…No. He couldn’t think about that. "Yeah, we all have the worst hangover." It was an attempt of a joke, probably not funny, maybe too soon but he smiled anyway because he wanted to be unaware of the bad things that had happened, even if it was just pretending.

"What?" He looked at Peter with a frown because it was not fair. Wormtail had just turned nineteen and it should’ve been a big deal, James should’ve baked him a cake and give him a present and take him out to drink and do whatever crazy thing he could think of and they should’ve had fun. But they hadn’t and it was just not fair. "Don’t say that." And his voice didn’t sound firm as he had intended but pleading and he cleared his throat, looking away. "Don’t say that." He repeated, this time his tone more firm. "Birthdays are important things, Peter. Specially yours." He looked at his friend and smiled. "You wanna know why?" He made a two second pause before continuing, not allowing Peter to answer. "Because you are Peter Pettigrew and you’re bloody awesome and important." He nuzzled Peter’s cheek softly, smile still in place. "So we’ll make a big deal out of your birthday and I’ll make you a cake and give you your present, deal?"

[obumbravit-animus]

Peter swatted at James' knee at the off-color joke, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth anyhow. That'd always been James though. Always the one to make Peter laugh even if he knew it was wildly inappropriate. It'd been the cause of more than one detention through their Hogwarts career and it was sure to get him in trouble as an adult. But he couldn't stop the smile, not when James was around. 

He felt his eyes roll as he flicked his cigarette butt down to the street below them. "Birthdays aren't important, Prongs. Least not mine. I definitely don't need a party, or a big deal, or even a cake or a present. We're in the middle of a war, and we've got bigger fish to fry than another year of me getting older." His face flushed as James nuzzled him, trying desperately to curb the blush. Another piece of James that was just business as usual, though nobody had quite figured out exactly how badly it affected Peter. 

He prayed it stayed that way. 

"So instead of celebrating that foolish holiday let's instead make a good plan for making sure we all get out of this alive. That's a far better idea."

[mrprxngspxtter-blog]

There was something incredibly comforting about being out on the cold all by himself but it was even more so to hear the voice of one of his best friends. It sent a wave of relief through his body and, if they weren’t on a roof, he would give him a tight hug and not let go in a good amount of time.

"Peter…" He smiled lightly, watching the other man light up a cigarette. His mind bringing him the memory of the first time they tried smoking and how it ended in a lot of coughing  and laughter. It was probably ridiculous to feel like that had been a long time ago but he supposed it was a side effect of war. "I wasn’t hiding. Not from you, anyway." He took another drag from the nicotine stick, letting the smoke out as he talked. "I’ve just been busy, needed to clear my head." He looked back at Peter, scanning him, trying to find any sign of injuries but Peter seemed to be okay.

"I’m happy to see you, Wormtail." He smiled again, carefully moving closer to the other, wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders, needing a proof that the other was really dare, that he was okay and not one of the lifeless bodies he had seen at the stupid party. "I owe you a happy birthday, don’t I?"

[obumbravit-animus]

It was a callback to such a simpler time. 

Him and James, smoking on the roof, pretending that nothing could hurt them. James had been a god at Hogwarts, and by association Peter at least a demigod. Creatures out of myth and legend, not yet brought down by the harsh reality of war. What a time that had been. 

"I know how that goes." He muttered, looking out across the cold expanse of the city. "After the party I think all of us needed a little time to sit and.... remember how to be alive again. After seeing so many who weren't."

Grinning at the slight contact James had gifted him he hugged his friend back. "You certainly do not. I doubt nineteen will be any different than eighteen so why really bother with the birthday anyway? We have more important things to do."

[stellavagus-blog]

It didn’t matter to Sirius how many times Peter rolled his eyes at the candle and the cupcake - all that mattered was that, for just a minute, for one second out of this nightmarish hellscape they existed in that they were back at Hogwarts. It could be, for just a second, the early morning hours right after a rager they’d just thrown for Pete’s birthday, with just the two of them and a goddamn cupcake.

That was what kept Sirius sane – the quiet moments with the people he loved. The people he could trust no matter what, the ones he knew would always be loyal to him. He may only be able to count those friends on one hand, but he had them – and that was what mattered.

He rolled his eyes, wiping the icing off his nose and licking it off his finger, before taking his half of the cupcake, “You know, this was your birthday cupcake you fuckin dick – you’re not supposed to share on your birthday.”

[obumbravit-animus]

Sirius was always the one Peter had to watch out for. James was far too preoccupied with the world around him to notice too much. Remus was far too preoccupied with the world inside his own bones to notice. But Sirius. Sirius was the one who'd always pierced any shield Peter could throw up, any mask he could cultivate for himself. A nuisance, yes. But also a welcome break from the eternal posturing that was his life. 

"How many cupcakes is this, Pad?" He grinned and bit into the small cake, sighing in delight at the magic and love that seemed to fill every single thing Molly cooked. "Eight birthday cupcakes? Since before you were Pad and I was Wormy. Back when we were just Sirius and Peter." He filled a chipped mug with cold milk and took a sip, sighing across the room, "We've come a really long way since then, haven't we? Not entirely sure that it's a good direction we've traveled."

"But at least we did it together."