Peter began to whimper. Everything had begun to press down on him all too much. They'd defied time, they'd thrown themselves into a situation impossible to get of, and now he was kidnapped.

His captor still appeared to be in a mental battle with himself, turning this way and that, aching with decisions. Finally, his captor made way to his chair, his whole face unreadable. The face was not neutral of emotion, but simply that there was too much to observe.

"I… I'm going to try to make you… comfortable," the kidnapper said uneasily, fumbling with the rope that bound Peter's wrists.

The boy couldn't say a word, even if he wanted to. The fear had paralyzed him, and even when the rope had slid away, his arms stayed frozen. The captor had gone back into the darkness and Peter was left to his thoughts. He moved his fingers slowly, fear creeping up every time he moved anything. The kidnapper might see it and Avada Kedvra him.

He wished he were brave like Sirius. He would have jumped out of the chair in a split second and manage to look good at the same time. But Peter was stuck, frozen out of fear.

He tentatively moved his arms, little by little, bringing them slowly back to his lap. Halfway through, with a deep breath, he snatched them close to his chest, hardly daring to look. The captor wasn't paying attention at all.

At that moment, a strange and irrational feeling swept over Peter. At first, he thought it bravery, but it was actually recklessness. Just do it… just GO FOR IT!

His mind screamed this at him, and he almost left his chair. But no- he mustn't. Think of the danger…

Do it!

Peter stood up and ran as fast as he could. He was running away, further away than could be imagined, back to the past, back to where he and his friends (were they his friends?) could just enjoy themselves by the lake, where he and Sandra King could-

That awful feeling of falling hit Peter like a bag of bricks. It probably would have had the same effect if a bag of bricks hit him, because he went sprawling across the ground. What happened, what happened, went swirling around his mind until he realized his legs were still bound to the chair, and it was tottering precociously.

He never knew how much chairs hurt.

His kidnapper knew, he knew, Peter was dead, he knew he was, just get it over with, please, please, he didn't-

But instead the captor was untying his feet and practically pleading, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

Peter didn't understand what was going on.

"Here, have something to… to eat…" The captor turned his back to Peter and rummaged through a knapsack, taking out a few things and throwing a few things back.

Peter was more shaken that he was before. He could hardly move his body, even if he tried. Speaking was equivalent to being able to jump off Big Ben and fly. He closed his eyes, sweat beading on his forehead. Maybe if he squeezed his eyes tight enough, he would be back with Sirius and Remus, even if Sirius was still singing.

When he opened his eyes again, a napkin was folded in his lap, obscuring a few items from sight. He shouldn't open it; it might have automatic sensors that would blast lasers at him if he opened the cloth. But he was so hungry…

Inside were mainly chocolate frogs and pumpkin pasties with a nice cut of ham in the middle.

"Sorry," his captor squeaked, wringing his hands. "That's all I have… I… here… I'll untie your feet too."

Peter looked down at the strange meal, then back at his captor, who was busy untying the rope at his feet. That ham, though a bit dry was still quite acceptable. The chocolate frogs weren't bad at all, and neither were the pumpkin pasties.

Who ever said being a captive was that bad?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Remus didn't care anymore. Actually, he had stopped caring a few hours ago… or had it been minutes? The Warlocks weren't that bad. No. He couldn't have really said that.

Concentrate. Concentrate on where Peter is, Remus told himself sternly. He'd been gone for half an hour now, and Remus was getting worried. He might have gotten abducted by McGonagall, if she was still alive of course, or maybe he got lost on his quest…

"Where's Peter?" The abrupt question shook Remus out of his philosophical mode as he turned his head around. Sirius was standing in the middle of the bathroom, the overflowed toilet water lapping around his ankles.

"You stopped singing."

"Yes. Do you know how much you guys ask me to do?" Sirius sighed, sitting himself down besides Remus.

Remus stared. "What do you mean?"

Sirius sighed again. "Well, I mean that it gets really tiring singing The Warlocks all the time. But you guys keep insisting, and I can't keep it up anymore. It's extremely tiring on a star's voice."

This logic seemed to defy Remus's mind at the moment, but all he was focused on was Peter's whereabouts. "Peter's missing," he said tiredly.

"Missing? Thou art jesting!" Sirius put on a mock Shakespearean artist face, hand to forehead in distress.

"He is, Sirius. We've got to find him. How can we loose three people in the future? It shouldn't be that hard to stay together," moaned Remus, covering his face in his hands.

"The course of true love never doth run smooth," Sirius said, leaning over to pat Remus on the head. His tired eyes met Sirius'.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Shakespeare's works can parallel anything to anything," replied Sirius confidently, hands on hips. "That was from A Midsummer Night's Dream, Act I, Lysander to Hermia."

"The 'Shakespeare's works can parallel anything' or the 'course of true love never doth run smooth?'"

Sirius splashed Remus with some of the water on the floor, resulting in a cry of outrage from the quieter one. "That was disgusting!"

"My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white," quipped Sirius.

Before Remus could ask what the quote was, Sirius had already obligingly filled in the blanks. "Macbeth, Act II, Scene III, Lady Macbeth, after murdering King Duncan."

"That's very nice, Sirius. But we're missing three." Remus stopped in mid-sentence, simply to stress the number. "THREE people. How could we be so irresponsible?"

Remus lifted his woe-ridden head to get Sirius' attention. "Three people!" Remus stopped, and then sighed at what he didn't see.

"Four people," he moaned miserably, and raced out the door to find Sirius.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hermione sneaked down the corridor, not believing that Ginny and Lily had actually gotten her to do this. This was ridiculous! She was out of her mind, she must be. Doing this would give immediate detention, maybe even expulsion.

The corridor leading to the Defense room never felt so cold. Why, why, why was she doing this? She didn't have to. Hermione could say that she had done it- a "let's not and say we did" sort of thing.

And there it was. The door to the classroom. She took a deep breath. This was stupid, stupid, stupid. But she couldn't back down. A possessive hold had come over her, a sort of recklessness. She was going to do this, no matter how much her sensibility told her not to.

She began to rehearse what she would say. "Professor Snape…"

"Yes?"

The cold voice cut her off, and immediately her skin turned clammy. She slowly turned around, looking up at Snape's chillingly neutral visage.

"Err… I just wanted to say… that Professor McGonagall is a frightful old git and walks like she has a rod stuck up her-" This was blurted out before Hermione could think about whether she really wanted to say it. There. Ginny and Lily would be perfectly happy. Of course, she wouldn't tell them that she'd forgotten the last word, but she figured they'd be happy all the same.

And now for the punishment.

She waited for Snape's response, but instead, nothing happened. She opened one eye hesitantly, anxiously awaiting her sentence.

"Shh!" muttered Snape, leaning in towards her ear. "I agree. Now, how would I go about plotting revenge on her?"

Hermione's mouth dropped open. She would have rather got the chastising.