The trip to France had been pleasant enough. Peter drove, Ron sat in the sidecar and gave directions. The winter had been surprisingly light, so there was minimal snow on the ground. By the time they had reached the ferry, they had time to spare.
Ron fiddled with his jacket, Peter places his arm on his shoulder.
"You don't have to be nervous, they'll love you."
Ron gave a nervous smile, and Peter felt weak at the knees. Seeing him so unsure about meeting his friends, even though he dealt with Death Eaters on a daily basis, made Peter realized he truly did love Ron and had to hold onto him at all cost.
After the ferry docked, the continued riding to a Paris, then a little further out. When the reached the Potter's large airy villa, they stopped.
It was an old blue farmhouse with green windows and vines growing around the and mundane animals roamed the grounds and there was a lush garden of flowering plants for Lily's potions.
As they drove onto the stone driveway, Peter undid his helmet and gave it to Ron, who handing him the suitcase.
"Off we go then."
They winded up the long stone driveway and onto the large stone steps to the front door. Peter grabbed the lion shaped knocker and knocked three times, awaiting a response.
"Who is it?" The voice sounded like a young man, tense and ready to strike. His Wnglish was well pronounced, but visibly accented.
"It's Peter Pettigrew."
"What happened did you get me on my fifth birthday?"
Peter laughed, "A kit to make your own living slime. Lily sent me a rather funny howler about how it kept following you around like a pet for weeks."
The voice chuckled, and opened the door. Peter hugged the young thin man with messy black hair and bright green eyes.
"Good to see you, Harry."
Harry smiled and hugged him back. "Good to see you too Peter. This must be that scandalous young man you've been seeing." He winked. "Salut, I'm Henri." He extended his hand. Nervously, Ron shook it.
"Ron Weasley."
"Very English, I know nothing about you and you already seem perfect for each other. Maman's already in the balcon, and Papa's getting some more wine. Should I take your bag?"
"That would be perfect Harry, thanks."
As they entered the house, they were greeted by a beautiful woman in her late forties, tall and statuesque with long fiery red hair. She had the same animated green eyes as her son, and was wearing a form-fitting forest green dress.
"Peter! About time you showed up, we were getting worried." She had two glasses of wine in her hand and handed one to him, another to Ron.
"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot to ask if your friend drank." She said nervously before giving an anxious smile.
"Oh it's fine by me," replied Ron. He took a sip. "This is delicious, what is it?"
"Oh it's something we've had stored in our cellar for special occasions. James and I have been making our own wine for some time, but this is one of our first batches. I've used a few magical varieties of distillation, so it might make you feel a bit giddy but the taste is purely the grapes and the terroir."
"Lily, don't bore the boy with your talk of terroir," replied a man walking out of the study. He was tall, handsome and strode in the room with a quiet confidence. He looked like their son, Henri, only his jaw was a bit more chiseled and his nose a little more crooked. He had a scar running down from his ear to his neck.
"James!" cried Peter. He rushed over and gave him a hug.
"Good to see you too, Pete. It's been too long," James replied wistfully.
"I have a surprise," Peter stated, barely able to hide the excitement in his voice.
James raised his eyebrows. "A surprise? Well you told us about your boyfriend and honestly, it wasn't that shocking."
Peter rolled his eyes. "Come out to the driveway with me, you berk."
To see James's sheer delight at reuniting with Sirius's motorcycle was worth driving over on the long and bumpy roads. He lit up like he was in their school days, and insisted on flying it around the grounds.
Peter and James flew it around the vineyard, the motorcycle only a few inches above the miles of bare vines, waiting for spring.
When they landed, James stores the motorcycle in their barn.
James laughed. "Oh that was mad, but it was so much fun! Sirius never let me drive it you know. No one could touch his baby, never mind I helped troubleshoot some of the landing charms." He looked at the bike with an aching sadness and sniffed, then rubbed his eyes.
"I miss Padfoot too," Peter said quietly. "It won't be the same without him, but he'd be glad we're alive."
James nodded. "You're right, but that doesn't make it any better. Sometimes I wonder if Lily and I did the right thing, leaving all those years ago."
"Hey, you did what was best for Harry. And who knows what would have happened if you stayed? Besides your efforts protecting the Muggleborn refugees have been invaluable. Speaking of which, I brought the radio equipment."
James looked around, then opened a trapdoor underneath the barn. In the cellar was a large studio full of transistors and radios. They climbed down with the suitcase and set up the newer parts to the rig.
"Should we test it out?" James asked.
"You do the honors," Peter insisted.
James placed the headphones over his ears and turned on the machine
"This is the Marauder Radio coming live to Britain. If you can hear this, there's still hope. Any Muggleborns still living in Britain, you are valued and you are not alone. The numbers for this week are as follows: 26337766. Everyone else, you are not abandoned. We need you to rise up and help take the last stand. Help us end this war once and for all. Thank you, and never surrender."
He shut off the broadcast. "Fleur expects we are going to get a few more refugees this week, honestly I'm surprised there's still anyone left."
"Half bloods are starting to be targeted now, now that most of the Muggleborns are gone." Peter replied sadly. "Have you gotten in contact with Remus?"
"He's been doing his best sending people over, but quite a few want to stay and fight. Most of them aren't really equipped to handle it though. Some of them are still expecting the Boy-Who-Lived to come back from the dead."
Peter sighed. While Neville Longbottom's efforts to defeat the Dark Lord has been well documented, in the end he lost the battle at seventeen. It had been the turning point. The Death Eaters thought they had won, but with weakened forces they lost their main source for intimidation and soon enough the Ministry reclaimed its presence in government.
"The Order could use more good men." Peter suggested.
"Yes, but as cannon fodder?" James asked wearily. He took off his glasses and rubbed them on his shirt. "Let's go in, Lily will be furious if I keep you in the barn all evening away from your date."
Dinner was fantastic, as always. Lily was an excellent cook. By this point, Remus had arrived, and there was a raucous reunion as the three of them reminisced, and the younger guests had to create small talk amongst themselves.
Harry has brought his girlfriend, a beautiful young woman he had known in Beauxbatons, who had recently joined the Potter's in their efforts to smuggle the families of Muggleborns and others deemed Undesirable. While the Ministry was not officially run by the Death Eaters, they had used their time out of the masks to create oppressive laws to quarantine anyone who wasn't ideal, and no matter what was the balance of power shifted that unpleasant disregard of rights remained.
Because of her clout as a Delacour, Fleur has diplomatic immunity, and her presence in the war brought international awareness to the conflict.
Along with Fleur, Harry had invited Dean Thomas, a young Muggleborn boy who had been one of the first to have been smuggled out, and a promising young leader in the resistance. Beside him was one of the newer recruits, Hermione Granger, one of the last Muggleborns to attend Hogwarts.
It seems she and Ron had a history because the two of them were staring daggers at each other.
Ron got up from his chair and gently caressed Peter's hand. "I think I'm going to go lie down, I have a headache." Peter grabbed his hand and kissed it.
"I'll meet you there."
The younger group was beginning to argue in French.
James overheard snippets of dialogue, his interest piqued. "It seems like there was a bit of a history between your boyfriend and Hermione when they were at school."
"Is that so? Ron never mentioned anything."
When he finally came up to the guest room, Ron was angrily unpacking his clothes into the dresser. "Stupid sodding, ugh!"
"What's wrong, love?" Peter asked.
"I should have told you. I knew Hermione, back in school. Initially we weren't on the best of terms. I mean, First year I bullied her to the point of tears."
Surprisingly Peter could relate.
"But Neville convinced me to give her a chance, and we became friends. Towards the end, I think she and Neville sort of thought of me as dead weight. I thought we were a team, but Seventh Year comes along and the two of them are just gone. No goodbyes, nothing. When Neville died, well, I blamed her. Though it probably is her fault." Ron pinched his pillow in frustration. "And now she's here, in France? She just left us to clean up their messes like nothing happened."
"Why did you never tell me?" Peter asked, trying not to feel hurt. He had his secrets too.
"I wasn't ready. I don't think I would have been if I hadn't seen her tonight. I'm so sorry I ruined your evening." Ron said mournfully.
Peter smiled, "You could never ruin my evening, your being here makes my day."
Ron smiled. "I feel like I know nothing about you. Tell me about Sirius, I'm sure you miss him."
"I'm rather tired darling, why don't we just cuddle?" Peter turned off the light and headed to bed.
