A/N: I recently opened up prompts (now closed) and when I started working on them I realised I hadn't posted anything from the last time I did so (outside of Tumblr). Most of the new prompt requests will also be posted as part of this fic collection, though some may get posted as a stand-alone story if the narrative develops a mind of its own, which it often does.

Lovely madeforuslcv requested a James and Lily pairing with her prompt, unfortunately, things took a little turn in my brain and this was what came out :/

Thrice defied

Prompt: [James x Lily] 'Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…'
for madeforuslcv

Peter shivered as he headed towards Malfoy Manor. He had done what his Lord had asked, demanded, but he felt no better. He had expected the heavy set of his shoulders and the sick feeling in his stomach to evaporate once he knew he could return to the circle with good news… but instead… he felt worse.

He tried to convince himself that it was already too late for James and Lily, that the prophecy meant they couldn't live whatever he did, but it brought him no comfort.

He hoped he would get lucky, for once, and be spared the horror of being part of the team being sent to their house. Even if it were so, it would be a small reprieve. He might not ever be the one to hold the wand that ended them, but by allowing them to make him the secret keeper, he had snuffed out their lives as much as anyone else.

He had betrayed them, betrayed the people he had once loved more dearly than his only family. The blood might have only been metaphysical, but Peter knew he would never stop seeing it on his hands.

"Wormtail…"

His Master's voice called to Peter in cut-glass tones. Once he had been charmed by Tom Riddle, but not anymore. Now all he felt was fear.

The nausea inside Peter grew and grew until he could barely hold back the continuous rush of bile in his mouth. When he had joined the Death Eaters, he had expected to take his place as one of the brotherhood, one of the chosen. And so it had been, but the hollow pretence had quickly faded. He had wanted it to be like it had been with the Marauders before his boyhood chums had grown up and left him behind.

Now the use of his nickname, given to him by those that loved him, and spoken in harsh, patronising tones, served as a reminder for how far he had stirred from his original path.

Peter struggled not to shake as he stepped forward into the middle of the masked faces and dropped to one knee. It was time.

Despite the anticipation of the monster masquerading as a man in front of him and the braying dogs at his back, Peter paused. Long enough for the guilt to almost overwhelm him, but there was something there, in the back of his mind, a spark of some kind. It was a little voice, one almost drowned out by the oppressive darkness, but to his guilty conscious, it sounded a lot like Lily.

'Peter, there is still time. Peter, you can be saved.'

"Master, forgive me, I have failed," Peter stuttered out in the loudest voice he could. "The Potter's would not change their secret keeper."There was silence for a long time until all there was pain.

'I do not stand for failure.'

His Master's words pinged around in Peter's mind as he stood outside the door to Sirius' flat. He hadn't been there for months, the gulf between himself and his friends had been growing more every week and with no one more than Sirius.

Peter had loved Sirius Black, loved him and hated him in almost equal measure for as long as he could remember. He realised most of his hatred stemmed from jealousy, and that it wasn't fair to feel the way he did, but he hadn't been able to control it. People loved Sirius as soon as they met him, he could be loud, obnoxious and petty and people didn't care because he was handsome and charismatic. When Sirius was on form, Peter felt as if he didn't exist; he felt invisible.

The last few times they had met, Peter hadn't been able to stop himself from lashing out with a few bitter words. He wasn't even sure Sirius had even noticed. But he didn't have time to worry about whether Sirius knew something was wrong, or what his reception would be like.

The Dark Lord… Voldemort would be summoning him again soon when his blind rage had faded enough to punish him again, or to give him another task. He wouldn't live long enough to fail again. Peter needed to act now if he had any hope of achieving what he needed to — saving his friends, saving himself.

Peter raised a trembling hand and knocked. He knew he must have looked a mess and it was confirmed in his friend's expression when the former heir to the house of Black opened the door.

"Wormtail? What the fuck happened mate?"

Peter leant against the door jam and closed his eyes, lights were flashing inside his head, and he wasn't sure how much longer he had before he collapsed.

"Padfoot," he forced out, even though the name almost made him cry with shame. "I need your help."