A/N: In case you haven't noticed, or are finding it hard to follow along...this story jumps around in setting and date...I think it's rather easy, once you start reading, to figure out where you are, but if anyone's having trouble, PLEASE tell me and I'll help to clarify each post...

Thanks! And, I had to put more up...it just seems so...inactive, I figure it would be a while before I got some reviews, so I decided to write some more (my creative juices were really going today...) and put it up, and hopefully spark some reviews that way.. (doubtful, but hey! I tried! And I'll keep on trying...)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy - And this post really gives a lot of Peter's "reasoning" away, but it's not the end...definitely not...

Peter walked up the steps of a small blue house, looking content. He held a paper bag in his right hand, and was digging in his pockets with his left, looking for something. He paused at the top of the steps on the tiny porch it held, with enough room for a swinging chair and a potted plant.

Finding what he needed, Peter extracted a ring of a few dull keys and, opening a screen door first, stuck one of the keys into a lock and turned it. He tried the handle only to find that he had locked the door, it had been unlocked. A flash of panic ran through his body as he contemplated what had happened. Had someone broken into his home? Or did he simply forget to lock the house this morning?

Peter cautiously turned the key again and opened the door, cursing the loud creaking groan it sounded at the slightest movement. Immediately, the scent of apples and cinnamon reached his nostrils and he went into a moment of delirium – he loved homemade apple pie.

At that moment he figured it out. She had come home early, to surprise him, as he had intended for her. Peter smirked and walked in. He walked through the warm living room, where flames were dancing quietly in a fireplace on the opposite side of the room, and arrived through a doorway into the dining room. He was greeted, there, with dim lighting and brightly lit candles on the table, rose petals scattered about the room, and a meal already set up. Peter smiled brightly; the petals were from the roses he had sent to her at work.

Peter walked then into the kitchen, where he found the golden-headed woman hard at work on a perfectly made apple pie. He set his parcel down onto the counter and walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, and whispered into her ear.

"Happy Anniversary, my love…"

He felt her beam as she put her hands over his.

"The same to you, Pete…"

She turned around, and Pete gazed into her brilliant blue eyes before kissing her deeply.

"You stole my very thoughts, dear Adela."

"Did I? Oh, but I've been planning this for weeks!"

"As have I!"

She laughed, and Peter couldn't help but smile.

"Ah…as if it matters anyway, we a both here and ready to celebrate, are we not?"

At her nod, Peter turned and took a bottle of fine champagne from the paper bag he'd carried home with him.

In a few minutes, when Adela had put the pie into the oven to bake, they both sat at the table, sharing toasts and talking about what had happened over their day and throughout their lives.

When the plates had finally been cleared, and things were starting to clean themselves up, Adela went to get the pie from the oven. Peter asked.

"How did we end up like this? How did we end up staying together?"

Adela laughed as she carried the pie to the table.

"I think the question is, how did I get away from my parents?"

Peter smiled, speaking again.

"But, really…don't you remember what happened?"

Adela sat down

"I do, and I'm not pleased with it…"

"What, me?"

"No…with how I acted. I should have considered your reason and feeling more…you were only trying to show your love for me…"

"Yes…but, in the process, humiliating you and exposing us and getting you into trouble on top of it!"

"But you still have me now, so what does it matter?"

"I just…" Peter stood up, ignoring the piece of pie Adela had been slicing for him. He suddenly looked very solemn, and scared. Adela, abandoning the knife, stood and walked to him

"Pete?"

He turned to her

"Do you really want me? I mean, do you really want to stay with me?"

She looked aghast.

"What kind of a question is that? On our anniversary! What could possibly make you ask something like that?"

Peter grabbed Adela's shoulders suddenly, looking pale as a ghost.

"Adela…we are in trouble…you are in trouble. In danger! You and-"

"I don't want to hear it, Peter…whatever it is, it can wait for this day to be over…now, let's just have some dessert and forget about this for now, shall we?"

Peter sighed and nodded, dropping his arms.

They sat and talked for a long while as they ate, it was dark out now, and the candles had burned down low, but weren't to the point of going out yet. They had nearly forgotten about their previous conversation when-

BANG!

Peter jumped up at the crash at their front door; Adela stood after him and clung to his arm, murmuring into his ear.

"Pete-"

"Go upstairs, Adela…" he hissed to her. There was another loud crash at their door.

"But…Pete-"

"Go upstairs, now! Go and take care of-"

CRASH!

A resounding sound cut Peter off, and Adela nodded, dashing to the back entrance from the dining room, where the staircase to the upper floor was located. Peter, slowly, walked out into the living room. He became terrified, and knelt onto one knee.

"My lord, I was not expecting you here…"

"I wasn't expecting you to put magical protections on both your doors, Wormtail…clever…more than I thought you could…produce."

The voice he heard was whispy, pausing at different points to emphasize. The tone was cold, unwelcoming, and it trickled the icy sense of fear through Peter's flesh, blood…his very bone. Peter felt tears welling in his eyes. Not here! He thought. Not now!

"Y-yes, my lord…to what do I owe the-"

"You know perfectly well what I come for…Pettigrew…"

He left the looming presence lingering before him, only inches before him.

"Either tell me…where they are hiding or"

A loud cry sounded from the upper floor, the sound of a baby. Peter looked up in fright, knowing that was bad. He dared to look up at Lord Voldemort's dark features, and was terrified to find surprise and, what worse, interest.

"Well, well…is that a child I hear, Wormtail? The young one…has finally arrived…?"

Peter bit his lip and, reluctantly, nodded.

"And why, might I ask, was I not informed of this?"

Peter remained silent, knowing that his master knew perfectly well the reason why.

"Aaah…yes…you are correct in fearing, Wormtail. You possess information that I do not and, therefore…are subject to endangering those...close to you…"

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't. He just couldn't betray them! But…what about Adela, she didn't' deserve this. She, nor the baby. He felt the Dark Lord's presence step around him and begin to move further into his home. They were never nice to you anyway! You cannot let the only person who has ever cared for you be destroyed! You hate them!

"All right!" he shouted, standing and turning to face his master, the master he feared too much to display his loathing to. Peter felt the tears running down his face as he spoke.

"I'll tell you where they're hiding…"