Secret Keeper, Re-Post Edition
Chapter Four
October 26, 1981
Lily sighed as she watched the departing back of her husband's best friend through one of the windows of the house. "It's going to be so lonely around here without Sirius," she said.
"You weren't really doing anything with him, were you?" James asked jokingly, a mischievous look crossing his features as he teased his wife.
"Don't you dare suggest that, James Potter!" Lily said sharply. She rolled her eyes. "It's just so – so quiet here without him."
James looked thoughtful for a moment, fingering the piece of parchment that Sirius had given him.
"We'll ask Dumbledore to give this to Remus and Peter," he said, waving the small piece of paper in front of Lily. "Then they'll be able to visit us."
"Yeah," agreed Lily. "And we certainly could use some company, couldn't we, Harry?" Lily turned toward her infant son, who was sitting in his crib gurgling happily.
"Pafoo," said Harry.
Lily and James both laughed.
"No, Harry, Padfoot's not coming again, at least not any time soon, but I'm sure Moony and Wormtail will be happy to see you," James said, plucking his son from out of the crib and holding him in his arms.
Harry giggled and laughed. Reaching up with a chubby hand, he hit his father on the nose.
"Hey!" James exclaimed in mock indignation. "Bad Harry, bad, bad Harry," he scolded, shaking a warning finger at the small infant.
"Ah!" Harry gurgled, enclosing James' finger in his tiny fist and shaking it around in circles, narrowly missing hitting James in the face. "Da da!"
James laughed again. "Did you see that, Lily, he-"
He suddenly paused, noticing the tense expression on his wife's face.
"Lily?" he asked concernedly. "Lily, what's wrong?"
Lily was standing with one arm propped on the kitchen counter, the other resting on her waist. The laughter on her face was gone – her lips were folded into a thin line, and her features had suddenly arranged themselves in an expression of worry and anxiety as she chewed on her lower lip.
"Oh, I don't know," she said slowly and tiredly, brushing some of her red hair out of her face and releasing an exhausted sigh. "I guess I'm just worried – about Sirius, and us, and..." She trailed off speechlessly, unable to say another word.
James smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "It'll be all right, Lily, it'll be all right," he said soothingly, placing his arm tenderly around her in a one-armed hug, her face buried in his shoulder. Please don't cry – God, I hate it when she cries, James thought uneasily to himself.
Lily was shaking, out of fear or nervousness, James didn't know; he only knew that she had to be held, to be comforted. Lily was, and always had been, an extremely passionate person, and oftentimes, her emotions reached extremes. She was stubborn and strong-willed, which she had proven more than once, and she was anything but weak, but she could also be worried, anxious, and upset, much more so than she liked to let on in front of other people. And so he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, holding his wife firmly as if he never wanted to let go.
"What are we going to do?" The quiet words tumbled shakily from Lily's lips as she continued to rest her head on James' shoulder. "What's going to happen to us? We've only just finished school, only just got married, how can this be happening? What about our future together? What about Harry? God, he's only one year old, how is going to grow up, he – oh my gosh!" Lily's arms tightened around her husband's waist.
"It's okay," James whispered softly in her ear, stroking her dark red hair with his fingers. "Everything will be fine, you'll see. You and me and Harry, we'll all be all right."
Lily raised her head slightly to look at her husband, her emerald green eyes glistening with emotions and unshed tears.
"I know," she said quietly, a single tear rolling down the side of her face. "I know."
Four o'clock in the afternoon found Peter Pettigrew sitting on a sofa in the living room of Remus Lupin's flat.
"Tea, Wormtail?" Remus held out the flowered pot, steam rising out of the top.
"Yes, please," Peter replied.
Remus poured two cups of tea, one for his guest and one for himself, and sat down next to Peter on the old, worn-out sofa.
"So, Peter," he said lightly, dropping two lumps of sugar into his cup and stirring gently. "What've you been up to lately?"
"Oh, not much," the other man replied vaguely, his muscles tightening slightly as he tried to avoid fidgeting. "You, Moony?"
Remus sighed in resignation. "Same as usual," he said, his tone suddenly becoming gloomy. "Working a few odd jobs, trying to find something permanent... it's getting harder and harder, you know, with all the new legislation that's being passed." He leaned back on the sofa, staring off into space.
Peter looked at his friend out of the corner of his eye and noted the tired lines that had drawn themselves on Remus' face, as well as the prematurely graying hairs that had begun to crop up in the midst of Remus' light brown hair. Peter recalled that out of the four close friends, Moony had always been the most tired and weary-looking one, always looking as if he had just recovered from some terrible illness. He knew it must have been hard on Remus to attend school with his condition – besides having to suffer and endure the terrible transformations, he was often too exhausted to attend class afterwards, and would have to make up the missed class work on his own time. It couldn't have been much fun.
"It must be hard," Peter said sympathetically, patting his friend's arm comfortingly. "Being... what you are, that is."
"It is, Wormtail, it is," Remus said wearily, taking another sip of tea.
Peter took a careful sip out of his own cup, being careful not to scald his tongue on the hot liquid.
"When's the next full moon, Moony?" he asked. "Maybe Prongs, Padfoot, and I can keep you company," he added, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. Bring up the subject in a subtle way.
Remus shook his head, a look of slight disappointment crossing his face. "It's not for quite a while, I think, but I doubt Padfoot and Prongs will be able to make it anyways," he said quietly. "Lily and James will be going into hiding with Harry, and Sirius is helping them with the Fidelius Charm. They've already cast it, I think, so we won't be seeing them for quite a while, I suppose."
"Oh yeah." Peter tried to sound as if he had just remembered this. "I guess it wouldn't really do for Prongs and Lily to go anywhere now, huh? But I think Sirius might be able to make it, it would be really nice to see him again."
Subtle, he reminded himself, be subtle.
"Actually, I heard that Sirius is going into hiding as well." Remus placed his teacup on the table in front of him. "They think his life might be in danger, too, since he's the Lily and James' Secret-Keeper."
"Really?" asked Peter, giving his voice a curious lilt to it and pretending that he had not already known what Remus had just told him. "So Sirius is at risk, too?"
Remus nodded glumly, his fingers lightly tracing the rim of the cup that rested in his hands. "Voldemort wants nothing more than to kill Lily, James, and Harry. Right now, with the activation of the Fidelius Charm, Sirius is probably the only thing standing between Voldemort and the Potters... as long as Sirius doesn't tell Voldemort where James and Lily are, they're all safe. If Padfoot gets captured, then... well, you can figure out the rest." He gave an involuntary shudder.
"Have you got any idea where he is, though?" Peter asked. "It probably wouldn't be a good idea for him to see us or for us to visit him, but maybe we can write to him, keep in touch."
"Hmm," Remus said, looking thoughtful. "That might not be a bad idea, actually. I don't know where Padfoot is, but if I find out, I can let you know."
It was as Remus said this that Peter suddenly felt a horrible stab of what could almost be called remorse. He was using his friend to find out information about another friend that would be used to kill two other friends. For a brief moment, he hated himself for his cowardice, for his weakness – but just as quickly, he squashed his guilty conscience, pounding it into the ground, not letting it get to him. It wasn't as if he had a choice; he didn't want to betray the people whom had protected him for so long, but they couldn't protect him any more, and the Dark Lord could. He, meek, weak, talent-less little Peter Pettigrew, would be able to do something, make himself useful, be accepted – he had found his niche under the Dark Lord's care, and there he would be safe. He had already gotten himself into this – there was no way out, and why would he want to come out when it was safe and he was protected? And with this thought in mind, he stiffened his resolve.
"That would be nice," he agreed, hoping that his voice sounded light-hearted and friendly. "Tell me if you find out anything, would you?"
"Of course, Wormtail, of course," Remus said heartily, giving his friend a light squeeze of the hand.
Peter smiled at the friendly gesture.
Yes. Mission accomplished.
Tired and exhausted, Sirius collapsed onto the bed at number six, Chester Lane. He had just dragged his trunk from Godric's Hollow all the way to this god-forsaken place. The muscles in his arms were screaming in complaint, and his entire body was still sore from the casting of the Fidelius Charm earlier. Oh well, he thought to himself. This place isn't half bad, for an old Muggle house at least.
Not bothering to remove his clothing, Sirius curled the blankets more tightly around his body. His trunk lay abandoned in a corner of the room. He would take care of it later. More important things came first. Things like rest. He shifted slightly on the bed, gingerly moving his weight in order to avoid straining his cramped muscles. Why couldn't I just have Apparated here? he wondered bitterly, massaging his aching calf with one hand.
Because then Voldemort and the Death Eaters would hunt you down and torture you, a nasty little voice in his head replied scathingly, and that would really be a lot less painful than lying around on your ass in bed, wouldn't it? No comparison at all.
For some odd reason, Sirius suddenly had a perverse urge to slap himself.
I never realized I could be so sarcastic... must be Prongs wearing off on me.
He rolled over restlessly, agitating a few sore muscles and letting loose a stream of very flowery words in the process. Re-arranging the pillows on the bed so that he was slightly more comfortable, he flopped on his stomach and rested his chin over his interlaced fingers, which were cold and numb from dragging his trunk around all afternoon.
Sirius wiggled around a little on the bed. There was a strange, nagging feeling at the back of his mind, one that he couldn't quite place, but whatever it was, it was preventing him from going to sleep. He just couldn't shake the notion that something was... wrong? Or maybe it was the stress of the ever-growing threat of Voldemort and his followers, or perhaps the burden of being responsible for the lives of three people, people whom Lord Voldemort wanted to kill very badly, people whom the Dark Lord would do anything to get to... Sirius gave an involuntary shudder.
Well, he'll never get to Lily and James, Sirius promised himself with a sort of savage determination. I'm making that my personal responsibility – I've already made that my personal responsibility.
Sirius vowed that he would do anything in his power to protect his friends. Voldemort'll never find them.
However, although he tried to put on a brave and fearless face to the world, Sirius was actually quite terrified by the prospect of being in charge of the fates of three people, two of whom were his best friends, and one of whom was his godson. It didn't help that James, Lily, and Harry Potter were probably the three people he cared the most about in the world; he had never really found anyone in his family that he could stand to be in the same room with, let alone get along with, with the exception of his uncle Alphard, who was already dead and gone (though he had left Sirius quite a tidy sum of money) and his cousin Andromeda, who was many years his senior and already married with a daughter (Nymphadora – what a name!).
Age-wise, the closest relative he had was Regulus, his younger brother, but other than appearances and surnames, the two shared nothing else between them. Sirius was rebellious, often causing trouble and discord simply because he felt like it, which had been the source of much conflict back when he was still living with his parents. Regulus was the opposite – he followed blindly in his parents' paths, fooling himself with illusions of the so-called superiority of pureblooded wizards and boosting his over-inflated ego with false pride drawn from the wealth and reputation of the Black family. Sirius had never had much tolerance for Regulus; indeed, Sirius had never had much tolerance for anyone in his family, save Alphard and Andromeda, and therefore had not had any friends until he had gone to Hogwarts and met James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and later Lily Evans (It's Lily Potter, now, he thought with a snicker). James had been his first real friend, had become his best friend, and was now his closest friend, even more so than any brother could ever be. And when Sirius had run away from home, too fed up with his parents' prejudice and pureblood mania, it had been the Potters who took him in, who offered him a home. Mr. and Mrs. Potter had treated him like a son, and James had become his surrogate brother. He had lived with in the Potter household until he was seventeen and graduated school; by that time, he was able to buy his own house and support himself (aided, of course, by Uncle Alphard's gold).
So in reality, the Potters were really the only people that Sirius could call his family – and the idea of losing James and Lily, or somehow being responsible for their deaths, scared the shit out of him. What if he failed? What if he was captured and was forced into revealing the secret that James had entrusted him with? What would happen then? Could he honestly trust himself to protect James, to keep him safe? It was a horrifying question to be asking himself, and it caused quite a lurching sensation in the pit of Sirius' stomach, which remained there and tormented him until the late hours of the night, upon which it finally subsided and let the weary, exhausted man seek a small amount of refuge in his restless, uneasy sleep, sprawled out upon the bed with the sheets wound tightly around him.
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Author's Note
Another chapter... decently written, I suppose, but kind of choppy and short... and nothing happens! I guess this is just a transition... lots of fluff, mush, and almost-but-not-quite-angst. Maybe I should have just tacked this onto the end of the last chapter...
Sorry to say there will be a lot of Sirius-suffering in coming chapters (don't worry, he won't die... yet)... anyhoo, a question for the readers – how emotional (as in angry/upset) should James get later in the story? On a scale from 1-10, one being the least and ten being the most – drop me a review or e-mail. In the original version of this story, quite a few people told me I had James come off as much too emotional, but others said that he was characterized perfectly... so just tell me what you think. Personally, I think he would be about a seven, but that's just me...
To Sailor Sol – you hope Sirius won't get caught? I can hardly blame you. We all love him, but remember, this is "a tale of betrayal, angst, and Sirius-torture." (Insert evil cackle here.) I am undoubtedly one of the cruelest people I know. Still, you never know what I might decide... maybe I'll let Sirius off the hook (I can hear the readers of the original version snickering in the background). =)
To fairysprinkles – my native language is Mandarin Chinese... it's too hard to type though. Takes forever. And I mean that quite literally.
A word to the wise (and I speak from personal experience) – never read or write angst while listening to sad music, especially if the angst involves Sirius. That's asking for a Prozac dependency.
Right now, I really hate: (1) my PJ pants, which are four sizes too big, (2) World History Homework, which is keeping me up until the wee hours of the morning and is giving me a horrific headache, (3) J.K. Rowling, because I am currently suffering from a bout of severe Sirius-depression, which comes from reading too much fan-fic, (3) the damned huge welt on my thigh that looks remarkably like a hickey, but is not – it itches, and (4) myself, for writing such poor quality (expletive deleted) and for procrastinating the work that I had nine days to do until 11:57 Sunday night. Shit.
Next chapter – Snape does some spying, Lily and James have a heart to heart (I tried, I really did!), and Sirius plays solitary chess. Will be longer than this sad little piece of work... I'm accustomed to writing long chapters, but it's harder when I'm revising text instead of starting from scratch... grr...
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"I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter – I'll never understand why I didn't see you where the spy from the start." – Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Scholastic Edition, pg. 369