THE SERPENT BENEATH THE FLOWER

Author:
Dr. Fawkes

Summary:
Manipulation is an art that few can employ. Peter Pettigrew happens to be one of those chosen few…. (A Dark piece about treachery and the biggest Spy Decoy of the Marauder Era).

Main Characters:
Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew

Pairing:
None, Marauder Era, Sprinkles of Lily/James

Rating:
PG-13, General

Peter looks around himself in undisguised awe. He has been here so many times, yet each time, he has been overwhelmed by the haunting beauty of Sirius's house.

There is a dark whisper lurking amidst the silk curtains, the chandeliers are a dazzling electric blue, the cutlery on the table seems to be made of the purest silver. The walls are adorned by famous impressionist paintings, and the carpet is soft and feathery at the feet. The figurines arrayed on the mantelpiece seem to be of some bygone era -- are they Baroque or Romanesque -- but they are definitely made of solid gold, Peter is sure of that.

So this is what a renegade's house looks like…. This dark, mysterious glamour, thinks Peter, a strange, sardonic, but not unfamiliar, taste on his tongue. The kind of house that Peter can never own, even if he slogs himself dead over seven lifetimes…. The kind of wealth that Peter can never acquire even after centuries of unrecognized work over dull boring papers in stuffy Ministry offices….

And suddenly, Peter is choking, choking upon the bile of bitterness rising in his throat. He wants to strike, to strike with full fangs sheathed out, like a serpent beneath an innocent-looking flower, and he has never wanted anything more in this birth as a man, as a rat, as a Marauder, as a traitor let loose upon them.

"You really shouldn't have come here," says Sirius, his face as uneasy as his voice. "You know I'm in hiding, and people in hiding can't afford to entertain visitors."

Yes, Padfoot, friend, you're in hiding.
You, who hide amongst silk tapestries and diamond nuggets, you, who hide in palaces and in gardens, amidst velvet cushions and gilded bookshelves, you're in hiding. Tell me, Sirius Black, has it been difficult?

"Am I just a visitor then?" says Peter, feigning the quaint look of hurt that he is famous for, and which has never failed to serve his means. If that doesn't guilt-trip Sirius into speech, then Peter doesn't know what will. "Don't I have the right to care about my best friend? I'd thought you'd be pleased to see me…" Peter's hesitant voice trails off.

"Don't be stupid. It's lovely to see you again, of course it is" says Sirius, looking very nettled, and fingering the goblin-crafted wrist-watch that Lily had given him on his last birthday.

Peter eyes it with some resentment, because Lily has never given him a watch like that, only chaste kisses on the forehead and odd-looking stationary that could have been diapers instead.

A moment passes by in silence. Or has it been a decade? Then—

"Any news from Remus lately? Have you met him, or talked to him recently? Do you know how he's been doing these days?" asks Sirius suddenly, a darkling scowl diminishing his handsome Grecian features.

Peter shrugs, frowning slightly at the pain in Sirius's voice, the pain that he has never once heard for himself. "Nope," he says, and he is careful not to raise his voice above a petulant whine. "Remus has been very busy lately. He can't even find the time to reply to my letters anymore."

Sirius maintains a grave silence, but Peter can see that a nerve in his jaw is ticking.

Yes, Peter is on the right track.

"I did see him though, last week," continues Peter. "I saw him at The Hanged Man's Pub. He was busy chatting with Yaxley, so I don't think he noticed me, even though I did call out his name quite a few times—"

"Yaxley?" interrupts Sirius immediately, as expected. "Yaxley, who is Rabastan Lestrange's cousin? Theodore Yaxley, who's been accused of killing his own muggleborn wife? "

Peter makes a great show of squirming in his seat. "Wrongly accused," he corrects Sirius. "Yaxley was acquitted a month ago, though I should think he was really lucky that Crouch was off duty during that trial. You know how paranoid Crouch can get whenever he has the slightest suspicions of someone being a Death Eater…"

"Right", Sirius grinds out, and Peter is sure that the sigh he has heard was actually an ill-disguised snort. And Peter can see his mental wheels turning, spinning, turning like a cyclone let loose upon still waters.

"I know I probably shouldn't say this," says Peter, his voice shaking, "but there is something decidedly fishy about how Remus has been behaving these days."

"What do you mean?" enquires Sirius, his voice oddly strained.

"As an official of the Department of Ministry Records," says Peter, wringing his hands fretfully, "I have come across Moony's name more than once. He seems to have been participating quite regularly in the werewolf rallies led by Fenrir Greywolf."

Sirius looks startled for a second, but quickly recovers.

"It's probably some stuff for the Order," says Sirius in his long-practiced drawl. "Don't worry too much about it."

"I suppose you're right," says Peter, shaking his head vigorously. "It's just that I don't like the image of Remus saying, 'Give us our Blood!' at the Paracelsus Avenue. If he carries on like this, the Ministry might put him behind bars… Stephen Wellington, head of the Hit Wizard Squad, you know, he particularly hates werewolves, calls them 'dark creatures', 'easy allies of the Dark side', he does…."

"Total TOSH, all of it!" bursts forth Sirius, banging his fist against the table, and Peter nearly jumps up with fright.

Is it, really, Sirius? Come on, dear Padfoot, you can tell me. Haven't you been having the same thoughts lately? Does Stephen Wellington seem completely wrong to you? Does he?

Peter's unmentioned, unnamed question is echoing against the walls, mocking the silence, stirring the shadows beneath the fire and the deep hollows beneath Sirius's eyes.

"How's little Harry?" asks Peter after a moment. It is best not to make Sirius excited pre-maturely. Peter must wait for the ripe time. 'Strike while the Floo is hot', as they say.
"Did Harry like the Kids' Gobstones set I sent him?" asks Peter.

A gentle smile lights up Sirius's face, a smile most unlike his reckless, rough, boisterous self, and a stab of irrational jealousy bites Peter's heart.
Indeed, Peter is jealous of all things that make Sirius Black smile, and hates them all with a passion.

"Oh, yes, Little Prongs really enjoys playing Gobstones," says Sirius proudly, "and he's become quite addicted to it too, much to his mother's dismay."

Peter has a sudden image of Lily's exasperated smile, Lily's beautiful smile, and he rushes to hide his scowl with a chortle.

"I must apologize to Lily the next time we meet at the Order," says Peter. "She must really blame me for spoiling Harry."

"It isn't you she blames," says Sirius, still smiling, and Peter has a mad urge to wipe off his smile with a bathroom scrub. "It's me she blames… Ah, but we all know that inside, she's so happy that we love Harry so much, she doesn't actually mind us spoiling him."

Peter chortles again. "James and Lily are so luck to have you Sirius," he continues in a more sober voice, his small, beady eyes tearing up.

"No," says Sirius. "I'm the one who's lucky to have them."

Not for long, if I can help it, thinks Peter.

Sirius can't see the bitter smile on Peter's face, for Peter has hidden it with a subtle sniff.

"Everyone's really worried about them," says Peter. 'especially Dumbledore; he's always had a special fondness for our Lily."

Sirius nods, but he obviously can't trust his voice enough to speak.

"Speaking of Dumbledore, I heard from Cornelius Fudge that Dumbledore's offered to be the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper as well," says Peter, secretly chiding himself for such an abrupt change in topic. He probably should have baited Sirius a wee bit longer. But never mind, Sirius can be awfully thick when it comes to the Potters, the emotional fool.

"But Frank didn't agree, of course," Peter goes on to add quickly. "He's already made Sturgis Podmore his Secret Keeper."

"How do you know that? How are you so sure it's... Sturgis... who's the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper?" asks Sirius immediately, leaning across the table with interest, and with apprehension.

"Come on, Padfoot, it's obvious, isn't it?" says Peter slowly, taking his time with each syllable, giving Sirius enough time to ruminate, to chew the fresh cannon-fodder.
"Sturgis Podmore is Frank's closest friend and his first cousin. He's a very powerful and reliable wizard, and he seems to have gone into hiding as well. It doesn't take a genius to figure who the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper may be. Even I didn't have too hard a time putting two-and-two together, and you know I'm not very observant or anything…"

The chimes of the old Grandfather clock in the far corner of the room have never before jarred so loudly in the ears.

"It's not that obvious," says Sirius, but his voice has lost its convincing, confident quality.

Peter waves his hand impatiently at Sirius, and says, "Of course it is. Come off it, Padfoot! If Sturgis isn't the Longbottoms' Secret Keeper – and Dumbledore definitely isn't – then who else could it be?"
"I mean, take yourself, for instance. Very few people know about the Fidelius Charm, but those who do… There's not a shred of doubt in anyone's mind that you're the Potters' Secret Keeper."

Sirius gives Peter a raptorial glance from under his bushy eyebrows, beads of perspiration lining his forehead.

"What do you mean?" asks Sirius in a breathless voice.

Peter pauses for effect, and takes a swig of his tea.

"Sirius, you're the Potters' closest friend, you're a thumping good wizard, and you're in hiding… Now, Remus, being a 'werewolf', can hardly be thought trustworthy enough to be a Family Secret Keeper, and as for me… Well, I'm not being modest or anything, but I'm not exactly the kind of wand-brandishing, swashbuckling, life-saving hero, am I?
"So who does that leave for the post of Secret Keeper? You, alone, Padfoot, you alone… It's so simple, and so natural to think of you as the Secret Keeper, Sirius. It really couldn't be anyone else.
"The people at the Order, they don't speak aloud of course, but they keep hinting at it, like McGonagall and Flitwick. I've tried to dissuade them so many times, but who am I trying to fool, really?"

Oh, goody, Peter, well done! You're pushing all the right buttons, all the right ones, and soon you'll have Sirius like a puppet on a string, squirming in your grubby little grasp, like that. Yes…

When Peter finally looks up from his goblet of tea, he does not fail to notice the changed demeanour of Sirius's face.

Sirius's eyes are glittering madly, the light from the old Arabian lamp casts hideous shadows upon his face, and there is a harsh, perplexing hint of a smile about his lips.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" squeaks out Peter. "Sirius?"