only the skeleton remains unexpectedly vile

peter pettigrew i see nothing but the candle in the mirror, no visions of the future, so lost and alone.

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

     ‘He’s one, bribery’s the only way to get him to do anything. Besides, he loves that mouse. Won’t go to sleep without it.’

He felt as if he could breathe again, with all that settled; his chest had been tight since Dumbledore had come to see them that morning, but he could feel himself relaxing, now, easing back into the rhythm of conversation, the easy banter that so many years of friendship brought. Peter would do this, for them; they had a Secret Keeper they could trust. And Peter didn’t think he was a coward for hiding. That was all he could ask, all he needed to feel a little bit better about how bleak things had looked just an hour or two ago.

He cupped his hands around his mug again, enjoying the warmth for a moment before taking a long sip of the tea inside, bitter and strong, just the way he liked it.

     ‘I think this whole war will have been worth it, to get to see him grow up in a world without all this shite,’ he said, after a moment, leaning back in his chair, letting himself smile a little as he imagined it. A world Harry could grow up in and not have to witness people thinking his mum was anything less than anyone else just because her parents hadn’t been magic. Where the worst things he would have to worry about would be quidditch, and homework, and the everyday things, instead of genocide or prejudice or dark magic. He wanted harry to grow up the way he had, carefree and bold, but in a world where that ease didn’t come from ignorance but instead from the world just being an alright place. 

When he had hope, about this war, that’s what it was about. Fighting to make the world an alright place, no matter what it took.

And he could picture Harry, now, what he might look like as he went off to Hogwarts, as he grew up step by step at east and in peace. It was a good image, a good enough image to see him through anything.

It was obvious to see just how relaxed James was becoming as they kept on, a weigh lifted off of his shoulders knowing that Peter had agreed to be their secret keeper. But it felt a lot like that weight had been transferred to his shoulders instead, like every worry that James had had was now his, only somehow worse, knowing what he knew already, what he had done already, and what could happen because of it now. And somehow knowing that little Harry found such comfort in the little stuffed mouse he had given him, kept it close every night, that was somehow worse. It made his throat tighten up as his mind drifted to everything he had already done, and all that he might do now.

Something had to give. Something had to be enough to stop it. There was a reason that James was choosing him, it wasn’t just because he was a good liar, because no one would think they’d choose him. There had to be faith. That’s what he kept telling himself, as if that might make it better somehow, and now even more painful.

He liked to think that the pressure of it would be enough to keep him from failing, that the thought of letting all of them down even worse than he’d let every other person in his life down would keep him loyal, but he wasn’t convinced that was true. There was too much working against him, and he was already in so deep, he wasn’t sure there was a way out other than to literally die. This was a chance to prove himself, one way or another, and it was impossible to know what would happen. The only consolation was that there was nothing to be done now. He’d agreed to do it, and he wasn’t going to go back on it. For now, all he could do was try, and hope that that would be enough to keep them all safe.

“Yeah...” he agreed quietly, looking up at James, the small smile on his lips. That thought was a good one, but one Peter couldn’t decide was possible or not. He liked to think it still was, but it was so hard to have James’ optimism when he had been so deep in the trenches of the other side for so long. It felt hopeless, like the darkness was going to win no matter what, and the longer the fought it, the more pain they would all suffer before it was finally over. But that was a cowardly thought, he knew that. And there was no way he was going to admit those fears out loud now, when James looked for full of hope. Peter took a deep drink of his tea, already itching a little for more whiskey.

“I hope we can give that to him. Get to the point where there’s no more darkness before he has a chance to even remember all of the fighting. You’re right. It’ll be worth it, for him.”

[winetovinegar]

implacablealecto:

Was she aware of the consequence of her actions? Of the chain of events her little game with Peter had set in motion, that had ultimately resulted in the death of a child and ironically Lord Vodemort’s defeat? Barely. Alecto never thought or cared about that. She just acted, and then sat back to see what happened. It wasn’t the fact that she had helped him shape into a monster what she enjoyed, it was the contemplation of the her power’s reach. She was never going to have political or public influence, her position, her lack of fortune and her sex apparently made that impossible, but this kind of influence, this was her territory. When it came to her collection of people, to her toys, she was the queen. “Why not, darling? Are you uncomfortable with feelings?” She smirked, her finger moving up to his face, tracing his jaw softly. “I don’t believe that for a second. You must feel something.” 

She chuckled at his next statement. “And people say I’m selfish. See? This is why I like spending time with you. You truly know how generous I am.” Lies, obviously, poisonous lies like the ones she had been telling him since the first time they had met. She tilted her head. “I’m sad you’re doubting me. The thing about me is that I can convince anyone about anything, and I don’t even need a curse to do so.” It was a stretch, of course. She wasn’t absolutely certain she could persuade Yaxley into giving poor Peter a much needed release; but she could try. “Your what?”, she asked, confused for a second, though she brushed it off immediately. “Whatever, I don’t care. The point is that they are, indeed, massive, so maybe I’ll take care of that and you can stimulate a different way? Or you could take care of me, how does that sound?” Her eyes were trying to paint as much of a picture inside his head as her words were. The mention of Evan immediately brought a huff to her lips. It seemed like that girl was everywhere these days. “I am not surprised. Evan always seems to want to play with my toys. Don’t you think that’s really rude? Especially since she dislikes me that much. Sounds kind of hypocritical if you ask me.” She shrugged, as they started walking towards the nearest pub. “I don’t think Yaxley will mind paying for our drinks. What kind of job are you looking for? Maybe I could help.” 

He hated the way that even the smallest physical touch pretty much ruined him. It was just another manipulation technique, he knew that in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine at the feeling of her finger tracing his jaw. He knew why it was like that, too, which somehow made it even worse. Before, there was never a moment in which Peter wanted for physical affection, strangely enough. He might never had had any sort of real relationship, but that didn’t matter. From the earliest memories he had always had affection, first from his mother––never from his father––and then at Hogwarts from his so-called friends, James especially. Those easy touches that seemed to remind each other that they were real, that they were thought of. It had been a natural part of his life, and then suddenly all at once it had been gone. Now when someone touched him casually, it was almost too much, a stark reminder of everything he had lost. “It’s easier to keep the feelings quiet. I have too many feelings,” he said, voice maybe a little too quiet to be truly joking.

At least as she went on, her words drew a breath of laughter from his lips, as he rolled his eyes at the statement. Generous was not a word that he would’ve applied to any of the people he spent his time around now, but she knew that just as well as he did. “I’m not doubting you, I’m just very confident in how much your fiance despises me,” Peter shrugged. Playing it cool only lasted for a split second longer, though, as Alecto kept talking, making him think of things that were much more distracting than any of that. It was a fantasy, like all the fantasies she gave him and never let him have, but, hey, it would give him wanking material for days, so he couldn’t bring himself to be bothered. “Well, I, uh, wouldn’t be opposed to that...” he trailed off, blinking at her, trying and failing epically not to let the image she was painting affect him. It had been too long since he’d had any sort of fun like that, partially self-punishment, partially because he rarely wanted to try, but he couldn’t deny the desire. Luckily, she didn’t linger on the image. Peter let out a breath as she went on, trying to brush off that picture. “She likes to mess with people, without following through. You should hear how she talks. Guess that’s what happens when you’re raised with a gold spoon up your ass,” he said, as they walked off. The good thing about walking around with Alecto was that people didn’t seem to want to bother him anymore, which was a blessing if he’d ever seen one. “Literally any job, at this point. I’ve even considered whoring myself out, but I don’t know if there’s a large base clamoring to pay to fuck a traitor, sadly.”

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

     ‘Feels easier, now, than I thought it would,’ he admitted. He hadn’t necessarily thought Peter would say no, when he asked, but it hadn’t made the prospect of asking any less nerve-wracking. There had been a part of him that was scared that Peter, or any of his friends, all of whom were fighting so hard, as determined as he was to be on the right side of history, to make a difference in a war that seemed almost unwinnable, would think him selfish for making the decision to hide. Would call him a coward, would say that the war had turned him into something other than the James they had always known.

He wanted to hug him. The table between them, the fact that they were sitting, made it an awkward impulse, so he didn’t follow it, but the impulse was there. Like the brief tactile contact had opened up a hole in his heart he needed to fill with more. Like wrapping his arms around him might stop them from shaking as he sat here.

James Potter, someone had once joked about him, more than a little bit in love with all of his friends. It had been an insult, he thought– Snape? had it been Snape, trying to convince Lily of why he didn’t deserve her giving him the time of day? Accusing him of something that wasn’t even an insult? It didn’t matter; he’d worn the accusation like a badge of honor, because it was true. He couldn’t vocalize how much he loved any of them. Sirius, or Remus, or Peter. How much they meant to him. He’d never be ashamed of that. 

     ‘At least the charm means you lot can come visit us whenever you want,’ he said, instead. ‘Make hiding a little less miserable, if we’ve got company. And Harry would throw a fit if his uncles stopped visiting and spoiling him with presents. D’you know he said your name, the other day? Still hasn’t said papa, but he’s got your name down pat.’

He already felt guilty. Nothing had happened yet, the damn charm hadn’t even been performed and he already felt guilty for agreeing to it, given everything he had already done working directly against James and Lily and the whole Order as it was. But maybe the little bit of guilt already brewing in his stomach as James told him that it felt easier already, now that he had agreed, would keep him from making any worse decisions. Maybe it would make him strong, brave, somehow help him push past all of the sins he had on his plate and do what they considered the right thing. The guilt didn’t take away the reasoning behind everything, though, it didn’t erase years of being the last thought, invisible until he was seen as useful.

It didn’t help that James was asking him to do something that was so completely against his natural state. James was asking him to be brave for all of them, but he’d never even been brave enough to save himself. He could lie, , he could sneak around, he could make people believe anything he wanted them to believe, but he couldn’t be brave. He wished for a minute, looking back at James, the softness in his eyes, the trust, that he could use a Time Turner, to go back to the day the Sorting Hat had been placed on his head, and told it that he had no idea how to be brave, that he didn’t deserve Gryffindor, not with the future he had in store.

There was no point in thinking like that now, though, not when James seemed to be relaxing a little, settling into the idea. Even if he was just pretending, he was going to have to try. Push down that bitter taste, and play the part for the afternoon, wait for the panic, the gravity to hit once he was back in Camden alone in the messy flat, too empty after his mother’s death. He was such a good actor, anyway, it wasn’t hard to act like the decision had been made and that was the end of that. But apparently everything that James managed to say was going to catch him off guard today, in the dying light of the homey kitchen, one hand wrapped firmly around the mug.

“Does he?” he asked, a little bewildered, something about that piece of information hitting him squarely in the chest in a way nothing else quite had yet. He’d already managed Peter. The thought made it a little harder to breathe, though, he didn’t know why. There was something about little Harry, and all the love that kids seemed to give so freely, especially him, that made him infinitely happy and infinitely sad. Like he wished he could’ve had that, and he wished it was something he could give, but knew he never would. He didn’t like to think of it, now. It made everything harder.

“Probably just because he likes that silly little stuffed mouse I brought him. Bribed him to get my name down,” he said with a laugh, unable to keep the smile from his lips. “We’ll make sure you all get by. I’d say you’ll probably be begging us to leave you all alone after a while.”

[winetovinegar]

luciusyiinm:

Lucius had a something of a standing appointment with Gaspard Burke, one of the named proprietors of Borgin & Burke’s, in part because he dealt so regularly with dark artefacts that his expertise could be relied upon for the appraisal of new purchases, and partially because the man himself was his great uncle, on his mother’s side. He’d also started bringing in any items of particular value or significance that he didn’t want lying around Malfoy Manor anymore, which had increased in number since he’d begun organizing the estate’s massive collection. It was a pleasant enough engagement most of the time, when Gaspard was in the right frame of mind… however, those days were few and far-between now. A combination of drink and dark magic had addled his mind over many years, and even on his best days the old man was subject to paranoid ravings and lapses of thought so profound that he could drift off in the middle of a sentence. Today had been one such day, when it was hard even to hold a conversation for all the madman saw or remembered in the dusty shadows around the shop.

How’s your dear mother? Haven’t seen her or her sister in ages…

Gaspard had inquired about his nieces no less than five times that particular day, although they had been officially missing for the past sixteen years. Lucius hadn’t known how to respond, at first, caught between maintaining the polite conversation expected of him, and being honest to the poor man. After about the third time of explaining that they were both dead, however, it had seemed a bit cruel. Instead, he placated his relative’s fevered mind with false reassurances of their health and happiness. By the time he was on his way out, his own head was clouded with all manner of confusing thoughts and emotions, torn between his present concerns and the cruelty that had stolen his mother, and then his aunt from him so many years ago. He hardly saw anyone in front of him in the street, let alone the unimpressive smear of a person he had the misfortune to collide with. But then again, Lucius was just as much to blame, if not more so, as he had a tendency to occupy himself so deeply in his thoughts that he had to be jarred out of them.

He turned to apologize, only to find when he refocused his attention that he was looking down at none other than Peter Pettigrew, the occupant of a number of his darkest imaginings in recent weeks, and quite possibly the last person Lucius wanted to see right now. He was shocked into a silence that the wix immediately filled with an awkwardly phrased compliment that only further confused him. His eyebrow quirked up of its own accord at the comment about the blue in his eyes, and he struggled for a moment between being baffled at the concept itself (as he clearly had brown eyes, and dark ones at that), and being impressed at the perception, memory for detail, or hint of the seer’s gift that Peter might have possessed that allowed him to see the truth in the statement anyway (as strange as it had been); his father had had blue eyes- cruel ones, and hardly something Lucius wanted associated with his own person, but still- the oddly correct nature of the comment had managed to hold his attention. Of course, in his next breath the younger wix made impressively short work of demolishing the good opinion of him before it was even fully formed.

Lucius had to swallow down a mixture of fear and anger that welled up in his throat at the very idea that Peter should ask him such a question. He was sure his expression looked very sour, for a moment, but he did manage to school himself back into a polite facade of more or less pleasant features, as he would be expected to present himself in any other facet of pureblood society.

“My son’s name is Draco, and he’s fine, thank you,” he replied simply and a bit coldly. He just barely managed to bite back a rude comment, if only because they were deeply entrenched in Death Eater territory at the moment, and he couldn’t be overheard expressing any disapproval over the murder of a half-blood child, even if it had rattled him… He struggled for something else to say, but it seemed despite his usual penchant for self-control that all of his elite pretenses had left him. He shook his head mildly, trying to bring himself back to a clear state of mind that at the moment felt miles away. “Is there something I can assist you with, Pettigrew?” he asked finally, not because he was particularly keen on helping, but because the wix seemed to be lingering in the conversation for one reason or another.

If he hadn’t realized as soon as the words left his mouth just how completely fucked the question he’d somehow decided to lead with was, the look on Lucius’ face as he looked back at him just confirmed it. A few years ago, a look like that would’ve made him want to drop his head, apologize, run and hide somewhere, and then replay what went wrong over and over again in his head. But even though he recognized exactly how wrong what he had asked was, he had lost any sense of that sort of regret. Still, Lucius had an extraordinary way of making him feel small with such a simple look merely by looking at him, just like all of the other prim and proper purebloods he had to deal with more than he would’ve liked. So he just nodded, looking around a little, trying for as casual as possible, as if he had meant to lead with that particular topic.

“Right, Draco. Good, good, glad he’s doing fine...” he trailed off as awkwardly as ever despite the attempt at casualness. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, mostly to keep himself from doing anything stupid in that regard. At least it was pretty easy to keep all of the thoughts away that were attempting to surface on the topic of children, specifically children of that age. And yet he was itching for a drink or two to help keep any of those thoughts from coming any closer to the surface.

Peter could practically see Lucius trying to measure his expression and for a second, he genuinely wondered if Lucius Malfoy was considering punching him in the face. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise in the world. It was more of a surprise that he hadn’t been punched yet, and he was kind of just waiting for it at this point. If he had had to bet the very little money he had left on who was going to end up punching him, though, it wouldn’t have been him. Luckily for him, that money was his to keep, as Lucius shook his head slightly to himself, and then went on, actually giving Peter the perfect excuse to bring up why he was bothering him in the first place.

It was obvious that he had no real desire to have this conversation, yet alone actually offer any assistance, but he had asked, and Peter wasn’t about to lose the opportunity as it presented itself.

“Actually yes...uh, I hate to even ask, I know how busy you probably are, and why would you even want someone like me around, but... I’m looking for a job, so I was wondering if you might need a hand with anything at all?” he asked, fumbling over his words maybe a little more than usual. “I mean anything at all, too, it doesn’t even have to be anything with the art. I could shine you fuckin’ shoes. Whoops, sorry, more language. But really, I could even run errands or something like that. And I’d work for cheap, too. Not that I’m saying you’re cheap, of course, quite the opposite, you’re a man of extraordinary means, but you know that, I’m just saying I wouldn’t need much.”

[richelixus]

Location: Diagon Alley Date: October 15th OPEN

The Order meeting had happened that very same morning, and Lauren was sure the news of the stolen Pensieve were going to hit the newspapers by that afternoon. It was a massive deal, such a large piece of evidence stolen like that. Yet, she felt way safer now that she knew it was out of Death Eaters’ hands and properly hidden. She trusted Alastor with her life, and she knew there was no way he was going to do anything to put people in risk, even though he was probably going to have a hard time trying to explain this. 

She didn’t really feel like performing today after everything that had happened hours ago, so she had spent a couple of hours perfecting her tea blends, there had been some clients coming for some readings, and the rest of her day had gone by making flower crowns and necklaces. Carrying a multitude of those she had decided to go take a walk along Diagon Alley. 

“Hey, how’s it doing dude?” She asked with a smile to the person in front of her. “Do you want a flower crown? They’re charmed so they won’t get ruined.”

[winetovinegar]

He was slowly getting more used to being out during the day, pushing past the paranoia and constant worry that he was going to be the next traitor to end up dead and just living, a lot like what both Thorfinn and Alecto had told him to do.  It wasn’t that he was feeling good, but he was at least feeling capable of trying to be a functioning human being, even if the job hunt had still yielded nothing.  

After so many years, he was good at making himself unnoticeable, so it wasn’t quite as daunting to head into the crowds of Diagon Alley. The problem with all of that, though, was that he’d kind of ruined his ability to slip past people in the street undetected when he had made that fatal choice of his more than a year ago. It meant that he somehow kept bumping into the last people he wanted to see, and today was so exception. It was obvious that she hadn’t really looked at him before offering the flower crown, or else he was pretty sure that not even Lauren Wakefield would have given him the courtesy of kindness. Her smile was so genuine it was almost painful for him to meet.

“Uh...sure...thanks,” he said, voice a little halting, careful, avoiding looking her in the eye.

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

The touch was a familiar intimacy, a tiny and easy closeness that characterized the way James interacted with all his friends. An arm around the shoulder, a leg pressed against a leg, a hand brushing along an arm. They had always used to joke that James thought he might disappear if he didn’t keep touching people, like he was making sure they were all still real, still there. He’d grown up in a world of casual physical affection, had never had any reason to stop. 

And just now, when he felt like a part of him was drifting away, like he really might disappear if he didn’t try hard enough not to, the firm touch on his wrist was a much-needed anchor, a desperate reminder that he was more than the intrusive thoughts and fears running through his mind.

More than this war.

     ‘Me too.’

He opened his eyes, again, making eye contact with Peter from across the table, taking in the hesitation, the softness, the familiar ease that had always existed in the space between the two of them.

     ‘Everything feels so hopeless. I always thought we had a chance to win this war, but now it feels like we’re just drawing things out, letting more and more people die for it. But… I still think we can make a difference, Pete. And as much as I hate hiding, I think this might turn the tides our way.’

The hope in his voice was thin, a little practiced, but it was still there. Even if it wasn’t true, he’d spent the whole day talking himself into believing it, even a fraction of how strongly Dumbledore seemed to believe it. He had to. 

He hated how easy it was to tell that the touch, as simple as it was, helped. It made him wish that he could be more certain of himself, that he could trust himself the way that James trusted him. Maybe it was naive to think that James’ faith in him would keep him from doing what seemed like the only course of active, given what he had already done, what outcome he was leading towards, but he had to have that small sliver of hope, or else it would mean he was agreeing to something even worse than all he had done leading up to this moment.

The bitter taste at the back of his throat hadn’t left, though, and it was near impossible to ignore. James’ words were echoing over and over again in his head, reminding him that all of his fears were true. James’ faith in him was selfish, something that he had never felt the need to show until now, when it would benefit him and his family. It was just more of the same, only this time it felt a thousand times worse, knowing what the consequences could be.

For now, though, Peter knew there was nothing else to do but to agree, and let himself believe that maybe the little bit that James had given him would be enough, that maybe having the safety of his family in his hands would help him change.

But there was a little voice in the back of his head that knew it wouldn’t, whispering that he would never be better than he was, that the jealousy and the anger and the greed would eat away at him slowing from the inside until he made a mistake too large to lie about. And that voice was telling him that by agreeing, he was sealing that fate.

There would be a choice to make eventually, but this was not that choice.

He looked at James, and there something in the way James looked at him, as if he could see straight through him into his soul, and understanding without really seeing. 

“I hope so. It’ll be hard to hide, but I think you’re right; this could be the thing that changes things completely. If Dumbledore thinks it’s the right thing to do, it has to be right, doesn’t it?” he said, maybe a little less certain than he would’ve liked to sound. He finally let go of James’ wrist, so that he could take a long sip of his tea, hoping it would warm him from the inside out. 

“I guess we just have to be strong, yeah?”

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

     ‘When Slughorn caught you coming out of the Slytherin Common Room while the rest of us hung back with the Invisibility Cloak, and tried everything he could to get you to admit that you’d been up to something, that you’d snuck your way in there to cause trouble. And you lied straight through your teeth, the most ridiculous bloody excuse I’ve ever heard in my entire life, and he believed you? Bloody inscrutable, I’ve never seen anyone keep a straight face like that while lying.’

You’re the best liar I know wasn’t the way he wanted to be phrasing this but… in essence, that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Pete could keep a secret any day; if I didn’t keep it by flying under the radar, he kept it by lying his arse off and making everyone believe it just by sheer dedication to the lie.

     ‘You’re the best secret keeper I know. It only makes sense you’d be our Secret Keeper. No one will think it’s you, and if they do, you’ll be the only one able to convince them it’s not.’

He heard the tone of Peter’s voice, the hesitation, the… he couldn’t place it, honestly. Despair? That’s how James had felt, too, though he’d been keeping it bottled up inside. What were they going to do, if Peter said no? James had never had a hard time trusting his friends before, but friends was getting to be a harder and harder circle to delineate. He could hardly keep track of who he did and didn’t trust, who was and wasn’t on their side. 

     ‘I… I fucking hate this, Pete,’ he said, cupping his hands around his own mug and letting his eyes slip shut for a moment, trying to block it all out. Trying to ignore the fact that there were tears building up behind his closed eyelids. ‘I… Merlin, I’m sorry. It’s just been a long bloody day.’

A sad sort of smile crossed his lips for a second as James recalled the old memory. Only this time, the retelling of an old goof left a bitter taste in the back of his throat, knowing everything he did, knowing the point that James was making. He remembered that story well, how easy it was to bullshit his way out of it all, how it was always so easy for him to lie to someone’s face without batting an eyelash. Worse, he never regretted doing it. James was right, after all, who else could lie through their teeth quite like he could?

“I guess I am a pretty good secret keeper,” he said, the smile fading back into a frown.

That didn’t make any of this any better, and it didn’t change everything else that James said. No one would think it was him, of course. Why would they think of him? Everything he said was exactly what Peter had been hoping he wouldn’t say, but how could he not, when it was all true? Everything he had done up until now just confirmed all of it, but the problem was that no one ever tried to contradict it. No one suspected him of being capable of that sort of thing, which was one of the many reasons he was so good at it. He could lie, he could so easily make people believe what he wanted them to; he had kept his current secrets so well, lied so skillfully, that James was asking him to keep the secret of his family’s safety.

The problem was, he had no idea what he would do with a secret like that, knowing why he was choosing him.

But how could he say no to James, especially now with the way his voice grew fainter, the way he closed his eyes, as if willing the world to quiet for a moment, to give them all peace. He could hear the pain in his voice, and it felt a lot like it was located right there in his own chest for a minute.

“James,” he muttered, unable to keep the gentleness from creeping into his voice. He hesitated for a long second before reaching out and putting a hand on James’ wrist, gripping tightly, thumb brushing over smooth skin. He shouldn’t have, he knew that, for his own sake, because even the smallest touch was going to make things even harder, but James’ words compelled him to do just that. They compelled him to do more. Because there was a part of him, even now, that didn’t want to let James down, a part that wanted to do anything to make sure he wouldn’t sound like that, so full of melancholy. In that moment, he thought that maybe that part of him would be enough to keep him from making a mistake, that James’ faith might keep him loyal. “I hate it, too, but we’re all going to get through this. And I’ll help you, if I can. I’ll be your Secret Keeper.”

He paused for a long second, hand still lingering on James’ wrist despite himself.

“I’m just...afraid.”

[winetovinegar]

asteroidealight:

“The animals, babes— unlike you they’re actually innocent,” She squints, trying her hardest not to roll her eyes, and her mind wanders off a bit thinking about James and Lily. How would they react to having him around, how would Sirius and Remus, how would every person in the Order that trusted him act with Peter running around like it’s no big deal, like he didn’t put them all at risk and got a year old baby killed in the process. And for what, anyway? Boredom? Fun? What the fuck was so wrong with him that he didn’t seem to care at all?

“Several reasons, first one being you’re not wanted,” Marlene shrugs. Probably way harsher than what she could’ve said, but she’s never been a think first speak second kinda person. What comes to her mind is what she says, even if that gets her in trouble sometimes. “But I mean, be my guest, stay. Maybe we’ll get lucky.” Maybe he’ll get killed, like Elphias. Not that she should wish death on anyone. “In the meantime, maybe try to stick to your side. There’s a whole alley back there filled with assholes who think they’re cool because they make children cry, you’ll feel like home and James and Lily won’t have to see your stupid face.”

“Now I’d have to argue that one; there are some people who want me around, they’re just not people who you personally enjoy,” Peter says, wrinkling up his nose as he looks up at her. There’s no point to any of this, no point in making things worse than they already were, and a year ago, he would’ve probably run at the thought of any sort of confrontation. But now not so much. Now part of him lives for it, in some masochistic way. He’s accepted what he’s done, what all of his sins stacked up to, and any punishment he can give himself is nothing compared to what others could. Still, nothing hits him in quite the same way, anymore, all the insults too close to what he thinks himself to sting.

The idea of seeing James or Lily makes his heart start racing, the air a lot harder to breathe. He throws his cigarette down on the ground, only half finished, and crushes it with his boot toe, a little too forcefully. There is a little part of him that knows that one of the reasons he has been so scarce in the year following everything, is because he’s terrified of seeing either of them again. He has no idea what he would do, or what they would do. He wishes that he could say that without a doubt his instinct would be to try, in some small way, to apologize, to somehow make up for the wrongs he had done, to beg forgiveness, but he knew that wasn’t true. There was something in him that didn’t want to be forgiven He had made his bed, now he had to lie in it, no matter how much he wished there was a way to right the wrongs he’d done. “Eh, it’s getting boring sticking to the people who don’t mind having me around. I’ve had more people speak to me in the past hour I’ve been walking around Diagon Alley than I had in weeks sticking to the cover of night over around Knockturn. As for anyone seeing my stupid face, I can’t help that,” he says with a shrug, as if he doesn’t wish he also didn’t have to look in the mirror and see himself.

[winetovinegar]

implacablealecto:

“You don’t have to apologise dear; you know I don’t mind being stuck with you at all. In fact, I’d day I rather enjoy it.” It was partially true. Despite his general disposition and attitude, Peter was rather entertaining. She liked watching his reactions, the way he was much more transparent that he thought he was - how he desperately clang onto her even though she was sure he would easily put his hands around her neck if he had the courage and was given the opportunity. How a person could hate himself so much, that was a mystery; one he found amusing. Also Thorfinn had taken a liking to him as well, and she couldn’t deny one of her best friends a toy; not even when she had been the one who had added him to her collection first. Thor needed the entertainment, especially after everything that had happened. 

“What can I say? I just love to put on a show. Besides, you have to admit those ladies need something like that to think about. I bet we made their husbands extremely happy that night.” She tilted her head, giving him an extensive up and down look. “Oh don’t be like that. Yes, Yaxley can be a handful but I bet I could convince them to be a good sport if I wanted to. They would rough you up a little bit, and I’m not sure you’d be able to handle - you know that size, but we could make it work perhaps. Tell me, how decent are you giving head?” She chuckled, but it wasn’t clear whether she was actually joking or not. With a smile, she linked Peter’s arm with hers and shrugged, almost in a childish way. “Besides, if anyone gets to kill you in the middle of a threesome or otherwise, it’s going to be me. You’re part of my little collection of people, remember? It’s only fair. But don’t worry. If it ever happens, I will make it a beautiful death.” Her smile was borderline cheeky, despite her words. “Anyway, since you’re out there and you have stopped hiding your head under the sand. Where are you taking me?”

He let out a little laugh, not really sure if her words were genuine or not, but also not really caring. He thought that they probably were at least partially true, given how amusing she seemed to find him, especially now that he had lost all hope and had given up on trying to be anything other than exactly what he had made himself into. She better have been okay with him sticking around, considering she had gotten him into this mess in the first place, breaking the ground for him to dig his own grave. If he was stuck her, he was going to enjoy the little bits of alright that he got, and part of that was being able to hang around her. “Don’t get all sentimental on me, Carrow,” he teased, cigarette stuck between his lips muffling the words a little.

“I bet it was a goldmine for all those old limp dick pureblood husbands. You might’ve rekindled the sex lives of countless loveless marriages. You’re doing good work,” Peter said, finally taking the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. He threw the cigarette down and squashed it with the toe of his ratty boots, and when he looked back up she was thoroughly assessing him. It made him feel a little self-conscious, even if it was teasing, given how completely awful he knew he looked at the moment, but he knew he could clean up well if ever needed. “If you could convince them to be that good of a sport, you’ve even more skilled at manipulation than I thought, and that’s saying something. I mean, I’ve been told I give good head, but if they’re as massive as you keep insisting, I don’t know if I could handle it. My dentist always used to say I have a small mouth...which in hindsight is a weird thing to say,” he frowned, even as she linked arms with him. It was always hard to tell what was teasing and what wasn’t with Alecto, but he didn’t particularly mind, especially now when he needed a distraction. “Thank you, I really appreciate that thoughtfulness. I wouldn’t really want it to be anyone but you, anyway; although Evan does seem to really want to do me in, probably not during a threesome, though...” he trailed off, words mock-thoughtful. “I was gonna apply for another job or two since I’m broke as fuck, but I can’t say not to a lady such as yourself. So, guess I’m taking you to a pub; drinks on you...or your rich fiancé.”

[winetovinegar]

likearosier:

A hum of agreement slips from her throat as her eyes flick critically over him. If she doesn’t like what she sees, she does nothing to hide it. He certainly wasn’t wrong about perfecting the trash aesthetic thing, with his tattered boots and his clothes threadbare. “This is true,” she muses, eyes narrowing in thought. How does one get rid of a such a pest? Especially one like Peter Pettigrew who was proud to have managed to stick around despite the circumstances? “I’m sure someone will figure out a way to exterminate you soon enough. Enjoy it while you can, I suppose.” 

His comment is one she easily chooses to take as a compliment, her chin raising as a proud smirk slides across her lips. “Sorry to disappoint. I know you were expecting a lot of hot air to be up here.” Evan taps a finger at her temple, referring to her brain. As Peter explains, her head tips to the side, unable to help but wonder aloud, “I wonder why they’d want to…” Her answer seems to follow right after the inquiry leaves her mouth – because he makes them look better. This time, her laughter is more genuine, the head tipping back kind of amusement. “Now that’s something I can’t deny. Stand beside anyone and I’m positive they’ll look better by comparison. I even believe I have your first customer–” She raises a finger, rather pleased with herself as she lowers her voice to suggest, “Goyle. He’s quite literally a step down from a troll. He could use your assistance, I think.” 

There’s something so impressively horrible about how she says such awful things so casually. It’s something to aspire to, really, and he can’t even be upset about it, especially given that it’s a pretty common feeling among the other Death Eaters that he’s a goner, and it’s something that’s coming sooner rather than later. Still, everyone keeps saying it and no one has done a thing about it. It makes him wonder why? Do they, like everyone else, think he’s not even worth that trouble, it’s pointless to get their hands dirty for someone who doesn’t even matter? He has no clue, but he’s pretty fucking glad it hasn’t happened yet, no matter how much he feels like just disappearing most days. He is a rat, after all, if there’s one thing he can do, it’s survive the worst of the worst. That’s part of the reason he’s gotten so ridiculously bold; no consequences could possibly be as awful at what he’s already put himself through. “At this rate, seems like that mystery killer is gonna figure it out before any of you lot. It’s almost sad. But thank you, I am going to enjoy it until then,” he says with a decisive nod, as if he’s enjoying anything at all about his life as it is.

It’s hard to tell if it’s a good thing that he’s able to make her laugh so easily or not, but it doesn’t seem bad in his mind. Anything that could possibly make someone who genuinely thought he’d be better off dead, see even the smallest use, even if it was just for a laugh or making themselves look better, is good in his book. If his self-deprecation and overall disarray gives them all a reason not to murder him at any given moment––until he’s able to prove his real worth––then that’s a-okay with him. There’s something strangely satisfying, anyway, about other people agreeing with him, even if it’s on the subject of him being complete trash. Her suggestion, though, makes him laugh, a little rough from all the cigarettes, unintentionally blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips. “Goyle. I’m not confident even I can make him look good. It’s a real challenge. I took a shower last night; I think Goyle needs at least four or five days of me not showering to be helpful. Ask me again next week.”

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

He hadn’t expected Peter to say yes immediately; he had to remind himself of that so that he wouldn’t feel instantly disappointed by the hesitation. It was a big favor to ask someone, an incredible amount of pressure, and of course anyone would have expected that he’d ask Sirius before he asked anyone else.

But that was why he’d told Lily they should ask Peter. Someone he trusted just as much, with all his heart, with not only his life, but the lives of his family, but someone who wouldn’t be as obvious. Someone who slipped, unnoticed, through the cracks and the conflict, the person who had always been the best among them at keeping secrets.

     ‘Remus is… to close, to everything else. He’s never here, anymore, he’s–’ He’s not himself, too often, these days, James’ brain completed for him, but he couldn’t say it out loud, not about Remus, not when it meant thinking about how little he saw his friend anymore, how worried he was about what Remus was doing that he couldn’t tell them anything about. ‘And Sirius and Dumbledore, they’re…’

He pressed his lips together, for a moment, before going on.

     ‘D’you remember in February of fifth year, the prank we pulled in the Slytherin common room? The one with the grindylow?’

There was a small part of him that had been hopeful. Just a tiny, whisper of a voice in the corner of his mind that expected James to tell him what he wanted to hear, to tell him that he had picked him, not Sirius or Remus or anyone else, because all along he had meant just as much to him, perhaps at times even more, that he trusted him more than them with a secret of this magnitude. Even if he knew that none of it was true, maybe a lie would’ve been enough to quiet the temptations he knew he would have otherwise.

But he wasn’t surprised that that wasn’t what happened. How could he be, after so many years with all of them? Just because he wasn’t surprised, though, didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt, all but hearing everything confirmed, every fear and worry, every little last drop of jealousy justified. It was just more of the same, only this time it stung much worse. This time, it was the difference between a secret and potential betrayal.

At least the excuse for not choosing Remus was a valid one, one that had nothing to do with Peter or anyone else but Remus. But Sirius and Dumbledore? The obvious choices, was how that sentence ended in Peter’s mind. Of course, who would think any of them would choose him when faced with the friendship between James Potter and Sirius Black, the trust that both he and Lily put in Dumbledore. Who would think he would put such faith in the one even they didn’t seem to notice? Who would ever choose Peter Pettigrew when given so many other options?

No one would think we would choose you is what he might as well have said.

Maybe another time the recollection of one of their pranks would have made him laugh, would have lightened the heavy weight that was on his heart, but not now.

“Yeah, I remember the grindylow,” he muttered, picking up his mug and drinking deeply, mostly to give himself an excuse not to say anything else for a minute. He wasn’t really thinking about rehashing the prank, listening to James explain why it meant he would make a good Secret Keeper for them. He was thinking about how he wished that James would just take it back, that he would suddenly decide that, yeah, maybe using someone else as Secret Keeper was a better idea. Then he wouldn’t have the possibility of making such a terrible choice, then maybe he could have kept going as he was, maybe could’ve even gotten out of things before they went any further. But how could Peter say no to James, of all people, even now, even given what he was already choosing to do?

[lauraholliis]

[oftybalts-deactivated20200612]

@winetovinegar

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

    ‘We… haven’t talked to anyone about this yet, Lily and I,’ he began, trying to ease his way into the conversation as painlessly as possible. ‘But we’re, ah… going to be going into hiding, soon. The two of us and Harry. All this prophecy stuff is too much for us to risk being found by Voldemort.’

The conversation with Dumbledore had been long, and painful, and had involved quite a number of rather rude words on James’ part; he hadn’t liked the idea of shutting themselves away from the war effort, of being unable to help their friends as they fought for their lives, of not being able to stand by their side against the Death Eaters. But Dumbledore had presented a persuasive argument: keeping Harry safe was just as important as fighting Death Eaters and protecting muggleborns. Maybe more important, looking at the bigger picture. And James couldn’t deny that the thought of Harry being in danger was a greater driving force than anything else.

     ‘Thing is, we’re going to use the Fidelius Charm. That’s what Dumbledore recommended and we reckon it’s as good an idea as any, to keep Harry safe. And we were… well, we were wondering if you’d be our Secret Keeper?’

It was a lot to ask Peter, he knew it was; he waited for his friend’s answer with held breath, trying to tell himself that it would be alright if he said no, if it was too much pressure, but knowing that realistically he was the best option they had.

Of all the things that he was expecting James to need to talk about, for some reason it hadn’t been this, which in hindsight was ridiculous. There had been plenty of talk about the prophecy already on both sides, and he had heard a lot of it. He knew that You-Know-Who was currently in the planning phases, deciding exactly how to go about taking care of the prophecy. And so far there only seemed to be one real solution. It was no surprise that Dumbledore had already started counteracting that, had already spoken to James and Lily about the best course of action, and that that was to go into hiding immediately rather than continue to risk it. He didn’t know exactly what that prophecy said, but he knew that everyone seemed to agree that whatever it said, it was talking about little Harry.

And now Peter knew what their plan was, now he had even more vital information to pass on.

If the first part hadn’t caught him off guard, though, then everything James said as he continued made Peter’s heart stop, paralyzed for a second by the gravity of what he was suggesting, of everything he was giving him. If he agreed to this, he would be the only one to know where they were hiding, and the only one able to give that information to someone else. It would be a powerful position; the sudden ability to do everything he had been working toward, but on a scale he could barely even comprehend, or to do nothing with the knowledge. There was a part of him that was tempted to feel proud, in a strange way, that they trusted him enough for something like this, that they would choose him, and not anyone else. But he knew this wasn’t about trusting him more or wanting to choose him over anyway, it was strategic. Because in that moment he could think of only one reason James have chosen him over Sirius or Remus, or even Dumbledore to be their Secret Keeper.

He wasn’t as stupid as people seemed to think, he knew why he would choose him. And he knew that that knowledge would make it even more tempting to give up the secret.

For a long moment, all he could manage was to stare back at James, the shock and confusion probably clear on his face.

“You want me to be your Secret Keeper? Not Sirius or Remus?” he frowned, the real question right beneath the surface, a question he knew James would realize his mind would go to. Why? Because maybe if James could prove him wrong, this would all be easier. “I don’t know if I’m the one you should be choosing, James. A Fidelius Charm is a smart idea, and I’ll do it, but I just...I’m not... why not Dumbledore even?”

[winetovinegar]

11:18am, october 9th, outside of borgin and burkes ( @luciusyiinm​ )

The news of Doge’s family had somehow put him even more on edge that the news about Doge himself, which was wild, because it wasn’t like he had any family or close friends to worry about getting killed because of his betrayals. All hope of focusing enough to even attempt to seem like a good job candidate was pretty much lost as soon as he had heard the news, and he’d spent the past few days wallowing in what he felt was definitely his impending doom, despite Thorfinn and Alecto’s assurances that nothing had changed for him. That wallowing included getting up, taking a few shots for the road, and then immediately heading to any of a number of bars. The paranoia certainly wasn’t enough to outweigh his lack of care for his own personal safety, though, which meant that on this fine, strangely sunny day, he headed down through Diagon Alley, into Knockturn Alley and towards the White Wyvern, hoping that Fenrir might be working and willing to give him a free drink.

He had been heading that way, using the unnecessary excuse of it’s lunchtime it’s alright to have a drink in his head, keeping his head down, trying not to look anyone in the eye. That, of course, only succeeded in causing him to nearly run into a mass of cobalt blue coming out of the Borgin and Burkes storefront. That mass of blue happened to be none other than Lucius Malfoy. And he happened to be a potential job opportunity. Lucius didn’t seem to particularly like him, just as most of the other Death Eaters, but he also didn’t seem to as actively want to kill him as much as his dear tower of a best friend. Peter was thoroughly unprepared to try to impress someone like Malfoy on a day such as today, but he also had lost all semblance of shame, which meant he was willing to try anyway.

“Shit, sorry about that; I wasn’t paying attention. Nice suit, though, really brings out the subtle hints of blue in your eyes,” he said, a little awkwardly, taking a step back, and really taking the image in. In a nervous habit, Peter felt behind one ear for a cigarette, nothing, then the other ear, also nothing, before practically giving himself a pat down, all to realize he’d left his pack back in his apartment, probably on the damn kitchen table. He cursed under his breathe before remembering he was trying to get on Lucius’ good side.

“So, uh...how’s the kid?”

Fuck.

[winetovinegar]

afterprcngs:

     ‘I can’t say I know much about Florida, but it certainly would be nice and far away, wouldn’t it? I haven’t been to a beach in…. Merlin, I don’t even know how long.’

He let out a deep breath, and then took a sip of his tea, sitting back in his chair. A vacation really did sound nice, especially with the prospect of being virtually unable to leave this house for the next… who knew how long. If he was going to be in hiding, this was the place he wanted to be, sure, with Harry and Lily, with his friends able to visit and keep him posted on the state of the war. It felt a little less like running away, when he could still be here and still be involved to some extent, even if he wouldn’t be able to fight. And it was worth it, to keep his family safe. But he couldn’t help but wonder if they would be safer somewhere far, far away. 

He wasn’t sure how to bring up the thing on his mind, the thing he wanted to talk about. Peter coming by today had been a coincidence, but he and Lily had talked about it, they’d decided, after their conversation with Dumbledore, and there was no point in beating around the bush and pretending this wasn’t happening. Better to ask Peter now, to get it out of the way with, so he could still the nerves in his chest.

     ‘Listen, Pete, there’s… something I wanted to talk to you about.’

“Don’t really know anything about it, either. But it’d be a good getaway, it sounds like. Maybe after all of this is over we can take a big trip, do just that,” he said. A strange thought, that he still believed that even after the war had ended he might be able to have his friends still. Even stranger that he did believe it was possible, to keep betraying, to stay hidden, and to keep everything the way it was, somehow.

It was impressive the way such a simple comment could make his heart start pounding against his chest, his thoughts racing in an attempt to figure out what part of his lies James had realized, trying to decide if he should just leave now, or if he should wait to hear the accusations first. Had he somehow slipped up and given away the fact that he had been passing information to the Death Eaters? Did someone manage to see him talking to Alecto or leaving a meeting with any of the others? He wasn’t the most observant person in the world, but he had been doing everything he could to be more aware of every little move he made since she had planted the idea for all of this in his head. He was a pro at moving quietly without being detected, and that was why he was the ideal person for all of this. But if anyone was going to notice, of course, it would be James. It would always be James to even try to see him.

It was a stupid thought, though, because if he had been found out, he doubted that James would have been speaking to him so calmly, would have let him help put Harry down for a nap, fixed him tea, given him the whiskey. So it had to be something else. There was no reason to panic until he knew what James wanted to actually talk about, though he couldn’t imagine what it was he would need to talk to him of all people about. He took another gulp of his tea, hoping it might calm him, before he finally looked back at James.

“Yeah?” was all that he managed to say when he finally did speak.

[winetovinegar]

You look like you'd be a good Quidditch player. Want to ride my broomstick?

“This a real offer? I can tell you that I’m absolute shit at Quidditch, but I do know how to handle a broomstick. Name a time and a place and I’ll prove it.”

[winetovinegar]

implacablealecto:

Alecto only smirked, not really affected by the sarcasm. Another thing she liked about Peter was the way he had grown exponentially bitter after betraying his friends. As if the whole thing hadn’t been his doing. Perhaps it hadn’t been his initial idea, of course, but he had gone through with it, with the perfectly available option to back down. And yet he stayed there, almost paralysed in time, trying to find a culprit for his own sins, trying to discover what circumstances had led him to do what he did, had forced his hand. Alecto knew he thought she was to blame, but here he was, looking at her like she was the most delicious apple he would ever take a bite of. He knew her smile was a trap, and yet he walked right into it willingly. Was he punishing himself? Was that his subconscious way of admitting the blame was his? Only time would tell. 

“Don’t be silly. No one feels safe, ever. And no one is. If there’s something we learned from this case, that’s it.” She shrugged. “I don’t think you have to worry about it, though. You’re not a spy. You’re past traitor now. Unless of course you’re having second thoughts - but that would be really stupid, and I don’t think you are.” Despite her words, that sounded threatening, she pouted; as if all of this was a childish game. Wasn’t it, though? A game of chance, perhaps. 

She shrugged. “This is not the first time I fuck someone at a party. If you think that, then that means you haven’t been observing me and that makes me really sad.” She tilted her head, a little smirk appearing on her lips. “Why are you sorry, though? Because you missed it, because you wanted to watch, or maybe because you wanted to participate? You know, I can handle two people at once very very nicely.”

“I might be an idiot, but I’m not that stupid, Alecto. I made my choice and I’m not going anywhere now, even if I know more than a few people who’d love an excuse to carve me up and kill me like that. Sorry, you’re stuck with me,” he shrugged, a hint of a smile on his lips. It was the fucking pouting that did it; how was he not supposed to find that attractive, despite the fact that she was vaguely threatening him. She knew what she was doing, and she also knew that there was no way he was going to stop letting himself play her victim, even if he never got anything out of it. She was the one who had brought him into all of it, anyway, even if he had ultimately made the choices to stay. He was going to enjoy the little that he did get from the shitty deal he had ended up with.

“Please, I know that. I’m talking about that dancing. I heard what you guys were nearly fucking in the middle of the dance floor; bet all those old pureblood ladies have been thinking about it ever since,” Peter said with a scoff of laughter. He didn’t even attempt to hide the way he admired her, mind suddenly full with very specific images thanks to her words. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only Death Eater she hadn’t slept with, which didn’t feel very fair to him, but he wasn’t about to bring up so frankly. And that part of his constant jealousy wasn’t going to keep him from even just enjoying the sight of her, the attention she did give him, no matter how taunting and teasing with no release in sight. “Of course, I wanted to watch. I’ve got two eyes; you’re both hot as hell. You might be a pro at handling two people at once, but I have a feeling if that happened, I wouldn’t make it out alive. I’m pretty sure your current toy, I mean, fiancé would kill me with their bare hands if they had the chance. Not that I’d really mind, if it was in the middle of a threesome with you two. Like, holy fuck, what a way to go. When everyone inevitable debates what’s the best way to get rid of me, could you throw that option in the ring?”