"But- But, I don't WANT to," Peter says desperately. Dumbledore looks at him sadly.
"My boy," he says. "My boy, you must."
And that was how it began.
X
No, how it began was:
They're drunk on Sirius' couch, on firewhiskey and spiked butterbeer, and Remus is saying, "Yeah, me too, just the other day. Another of them."
"One of those letters?" Sirius asks woozily. He slumps against James' legs. "From… what's-his-face… MacNair?"
"Yeah," Remus nods. "Him. Asking me… to come to some sort of…" he waves his arms around airily. He can't get that drunk – werewolf metabolism – but he's loosened up enough for it not to matter. "Meeting. Death Eater meeting."
"Hah," Sirius says speculatively. "My family too – they've been threatening me ever since I left." His voice trails off. He mutters, "Bastards."
James is watching Sirius and Remus with sad eyes behind thick glasses, knowing that it's because of him that they're targets. Peter sits watching James watch Sirius and Remus, thinking, 'Oh God, I don't want it to be me.'
X
And it's ridiculous, it really is. He's a MUGGLEBORN, and it's stupid that he even thinks that it'd work; but Dumbledore has faith and what Dumbledore believes in comes true without fail. That's what makes him a great wizard and Peter merely a good one.
That's what makes him the puppeteer and Peter the puppet.
X
He doesn't know how Dumbledore started it, the double games, the spying games. Sometimes he wishes he didn't trust the old bastard as much as he does; wishes that he'd never heard of Hogwarts or magic or friends that would laugh with him instead of at him. He wishes that loyalty and trust were golden ideals and not liabilities that he'll exploit, that he'll use, that he'll damn himself with…
It began one day after they left Hogwarts, when Dumbledore asked Peter to come visit for just for a moment, an hour; and up in Dumbledore's office sat him down with lemon sherbets and mint tea; and told him more than he'd ever wanted to know.
And then there weren't any more choices. There weren't. It was just one single one, and it would break him. And it would save them.
X
Peter sometimes forgets who he was trying to save. In his mouth, failure lingers on his tongue.
X
"I have foreseen terrible things," Dumbledore says. "Horrible, terrible things. The war must end. We must make it end. For that, you know what we need." He sighs. "It will be hard and the Potters do not trust me."
Peter thinks, with the last burst of vindictiveness he'll allow himself, 'They're right not to.'
X
And it begins when he knows, he KNOWS that Sirius and Remus will never bend. They're the ones most likely, but they'll never bend. And even if they did – even if they would, what Peter saw on James' face that night tells him that it can't be them.
Because Sirius Black is a Dark name and Remus Lupin is a Dark creature. And James Potter loves them, but that doesn't mean…
It doesn't mean that he's not afraid of them too.
And that's why Peter knows that it has to be him.
X
Lily cups her tea with both blue-tinged hands. "We're the same, Peter," she says earnestly. "Our families, our pasts. I know we can trust you."
Peter tastes the bile rising up to his throat and remembers how just last night he'd met… HIM for the first time, and can still feel the heat of those red eyes burning through him. He's never hated himself more. He smiles, says, "I won't let you down."
X
Up in Dumbledore's office, where Fawkes doesn't sing, Dumbledore says, "My boy, you must."
And Peter can feel the strings tug.