Chapter Six

My Friends

October 29, 1981

Peter fiddled with the stove in his flat. He had been on an elated 'high' since the end of September and James' suggestion of him being the secret keeper. Even now he liked that high that was on his mind. Tucked away in the back corners of his brain he was the only person who knew where James, Lily, and Harry Potter were. That information in itself had made him feel like he was on the top of the world.

After he had accepted James' request to be their secret keeper he had spelled his house to repel portkeys. Malfoy had tried to come to his house four more times before taking the hint and leaving him alone. Peter was glad that he hadn't done much more than tell that man what ticked the Marauders off. He shifted the teapot onto the burner which he finally spelled into working. Everyday he was grateful that he did not take the mark.

Sirius was supposed to be coming over. Peter had recently paid a 'check-up' visit on James and Lily the night before and Sirius was dying to know how his best friend and godson were doing. He fixed the broken chair leg with a flick of his wand. The flat wasn't much. A majority of the furniture, Peter had received second hand. He couldn't afford much and his parents were long since dead, most of their savings going to the last bit of tuition at Hogwarts.

There was a knock on the door and Peter tripped over a chair in his haste to answer the door. "Coming," he called fumbling to his feet, cursing at the pain in his shin. "Who is it?"

"Godric Gryffindor, come to tell you better let me the fuck in before I burn down this door." Sirius' angry voice came from the other side.

Peter's brow furrowed. "What's the password, Sirius?"

"Let me in, Wormtail, or I swear I'll curse you into next year."

"Padfoot,"

"Fuck it all, the password is Moldywarts. Happy?"

Peter swallowed hard opening the door. This was not going to be a pretty sight. Sirius was leaning against the doorframe. He still had his leather jacket on and he looked livid. Brushing by the man he dumped his bike helmet on the ground and tossed his jacket on the couch.

"By Merlin's sake, Peter, please tell me you have some alcohol other than sherry," Sirius growled dangerously.

He took a step back before shutting the door and opening the cupboards. Peter knew he barely had enough food for the next week, let alone anything but the sherry Sirius had given him. He wasn't about to let that on though. No way in hell. Swiftly, when Sirius was looking in the other direction, he transfigured a few pieces of dust into a bottle of scotch, unopened. Praying to whatever god was out there that Sirius wouldn't know the difference; he placed the bottle on the table and summoned two of his best glasses, which were merely glass that was meant to look like crystal.

Without a word Sirius poured something to drink and continued to pour and throw the contents into his mouth until more than half the bottle was gone. "Tastes like crap," Sirius said after placing his cup down and leaning back, his demur much more relaxed.

Peter jumped, startled, when the tea pot began to whistle. Silently he got up and took it off the burner, setting it aside to cool. If Sirius was drinking the man wouldn't want tea.

"In fact this whole place looks like crap."

"Thank you very much, Sirius. I am well aware that my flat's standards are not up to par with your homes but please understand, not all of us have your paycheck." He snapped and immediately regretted it.

Sirius merely laughed, pouring more scotch into his glass. "How are they doing?"

"Well enough. James is having a hell of a time not using magic. It's rather amusing watching him figure out Muggle contraptions." Peter said recalling when James stared at the stove in the kitchen confused at how to light it. Sirius chuckled and sipped the scotch from his glass. "Padfoot, what's wrong?"

"Snivelus was poking around Dumbledore's office. I caught him but the Headmaster didn't even yell at him."

"That's what has you so pissed off?" Peter said shocked.

"No." growled Sirius. "The McGees finally got the adoption papers through the Ministry. They are planning on leaving after Halloween."

Peter nodded slowly. He understood why Sirius was so upset. Despite never verbally saying it, all the Marauders knew Sirius loved Helen and her little girl. A part of Sirius had felt guilty that he couldn't protect her from Rosier. Sirius, like Snape, had been fighting Dumbledore for custody of the little girl. Peter, merely from being the last person to be noticed in the room, had been present after many of the Order meetings before the end of September when Sirius and Snape (separately) chewed the aging headmaster out for giving Bethany to 'the Americans.' Part of him wondered what Sirius would do if he knew that he called the McGees the same thing Snape did.

However he did agree that the McGee were going to be great parents to Bethany. He loathed to admit it and hadn't actually said it out loud for fear of a hex being sent his way. Yet Snape backed off at the end of September and merely spent his free time with the child instead of trying to fight where she was going.

"…then he fucking tells me to get out of his office."

The smaller young man looked sharply at his friend, realizing he had tuned out what Sirius was saying. He let out a loud laugh, which Peter followed with nervous laughter himself, silently berating himself for not listening.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" Peter asked as Sirius spelled the bottle to refill the moment he emptied it. The bottle was not a small bottle and he had drunk the entire contents.

"What are you my mother?" retorted the raven-haired man before laughing. "No you're too weak to be my mother."

Peter blinked, staring at his friend. There was a glazed, glassy look on Sirius' eyes. The man was drunk, which was a surprise because he could hold his liquid the best out of all of them…that meant. He winced. That meant that Sirius had been drinking well before he arrived here.

"Merlin Wormtail, you're such a limp wrist. I've never seen you stand up for yourself."

"Sirius, I think you've had enough." Peter reached for the bottle but Sirius batted his hand away gruffly. "S-Sirius," he cursed again in his head. His stutter was coming back. Why of all times did it have to come back in front of Sirius.

"S-S-Sirius," his raven-haired 'friend' mocked. "Please you stuttering fool. You couldn't stand up to a fly."

"P-p-p-please, d-d-don't d-d-d-do this," he pleaded. "You're d-d-drunk."

The raven-haired man sneered. "Fuck off, Pettigrew!"

Peter swallowed hard; the pain in his chest was coming back. Think about Lily, James and Harry, they trusted you enough to make you Secret Keeper; they thought you were brave enough. He told himself silently.

Sirius barked with laughter. "You really think they chose you because they thought you were brave?"

Shit, I said that out loud! cursed Peter. But what Sirius said caught him before he could berate himself too much. "W-w-w-what d-do you m-m-mean?"

"James only chose you because I told him to." Sirius said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world as he began to drink directly from the bottle. The brown-haired man didn't understand. "Moony was suspected to be the spy and Voldemort would come after me because it's obvious for me to be the Secret Keeper, so we chose you. No one would think to look at you…you're too stupid."

His world came crashing down around him, realities hitting him so hard in the face Peter felt faint. He wasn't chosen because they trusted him, only because they didn't have anyone else. Not because they thought he was brave enough for the job only because he was the one person everyone would overlook. They always had, why change that track record now?

"….grand idea, but really Peter, did you think that you were special or something? Did you think that you were chosen because you're a strong Gryffindor?" Sirius snorted.

"G-g-g-get out." He said quietly.

"What?"

Peter rose to his feet and pointed towards the door. "O-o-out. Now." He was fighting to control the tears and the anger.

"What is it, is little Wormy upset?" joked Sirius getting to his feet.

"F-f-f-for Merlin's s-sake, S-Sirius! J-J-Just g-g-g-et out!" he shouted.

Sirius looked taken back before laughing. "Fine whatever, this tastes like crap anyway." He tossed the bottle onto the table, causing it to shatter and spill its contents out on the table. "I will be by in a week. Albus wants me to do something for him. Bye Peter." Oblivious to the pain he caused, he slammed the door shut behind him.

Peter crumbled to the floor, crying. It wasn't fair. Why couldn't they see how much he wanted to be one of them? Why didn't they care?

oOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Severus fought his drooping eyes as he spent his twenty-sixth hour over the bubbling cauldron. He had been called early morning on the twenty-eight, much to his annoyance. Bethany luckily remained asleep as he slipped into her room and bid her goodbye. He didn't know how long he would be this time and he had taken to saying goodbye merely because he was never sure if he would ever see her again. Her face was a clear picture in his head as he numbly sliced the dragon liver for his newly invented potion. This potion wasn't hard to make and caused the person to feel as if their insides were being turned inside out.

With a sigh he stirred the other cauldrons that had been boiling for ten minutes. Carefully he poured the potions into a glass-reinforced ball that they had taken to using. Several Death Eaters would levitate them over the towns, drop them, and they would explode. As the entire town was reduced to the ground in non-existent pain they would spread in, stealing valuables and taking prisoners if they felt like it if not the entire town would be wiped out, turned into a ghost town.

He was just about to add the dragon livers when Rodolphus Lestrange entered his potions lab. "Severus," the man said. He sighed. Rodolphus was the only one that ever called him Severus…at least since Regulus died. "The Dark Lord has called the Circle to the Throne Room." Severus stared at him. Rodolphus shrugged. "No idea, I was sent to get you because he didn't want to mess the potions up. Are you in a position to come? He gave the option."

This was strange. The Dark Lord never gave options. Quickly casting a preservation charm and on both the potion and the dragon liver he washed his hands. "All the Circle?" he questioned walking from the room.

"Bella, you, Malfoy, and I,"

Severus' brow furrowed as they entered the room. He quickly took his place at the right side of the Dark Lord, Malfoy at the left. The four of them, through horrendous acts, had made their way to be the four people the Dark Lord trusted the most. This was going to be deathly important but why…why was he—his thoughts were cut off sharply when Bellatrix stalked in, dragging a brown-haired bloody man behind her via magic.

"My Lord," she bowed down, careful to show her cleavage to the man in front of her.

Rodolphus, her husband, sent her an annoyed look but didn't bother showing anything else. After three years of marriage he was very used to her antics and attempts to get the Dark Lord to look at her like he had when she was in school. Severus' attention, however, was not on the slut, but on the man she had dragged in bound.

How the hell did that foolish fucking rat get caught…why is he looking at me, does he expect me to help him? Fuck, I would rather ingest a Blood-Boiling potion than help him. His thoughts raced as Bellatrix took her place and Peter Pettigrew fell to his knees in front of the group.

"Well…well, now, if it isn't Mr. Peter Pettigrew," the Dark Lord said, clucking his tongue. "You seemed to have caused quite a dilemma on yourself." The ropes disappeared and Pettigrew collapsed the rest of the way to the floor, giving a very mouse-like squeak. "Where is that Gryffindor bravery? You certainly gain it while telling Lucius about your…friends."

Severus controlled his features carefully. Pettigrew was the spy! He exclaimed mentally. How fitting, the rat is the rat. He thought sourly.

Pettigrew attempted to get to his feet but failed miserably.

"Do you think you can run?"

"G-g-g-go to hell," spat the rat.

"I thought hell was only a Muggle concept," the Dark Lord said with a laugh. He hopped onto his daunting throne, complete with rearing snakes.

"W-w-w-what d-d-do you w-w-want?" the horrid man stuttered.

Mutely they all watched Pettigrew as the Dark Lord gave a disdainful guffaw. "What do you think I want, Pettigrew? Information,"

"N-n-never."

Severus couldn't read the expression on the Dark Lord's face. "Pettigrew, I grow tired of this charade. You have been giving me information since last year, you will continue to tell me what I want to know," Pettigrew mustered up a pathetic glare. "Or I shall kill you,"

"I-i-it was a m-m-m-mist-t-t-take!"

"How were you able to be sorted into Gryffindor, since it was so easy for you to contact Lucius and betray your friends? Was the Sorting Hat blind, or were you a particularly slippery student?"

Pettigrew didn't answer.

"Tell me where the Potters are."

"I w-w-will n-not be-t-tray my friends again,"

The Dark Lord snapped his fingers and the man was screaming in agony. "How did you find him Bella, my love?"

The look on the woman's face was sickening. "A pub, not far out of wizarding London, he was stilling there like a fool staring at a full glass of fire whiskey as if it would tap-dance for him."

"I w-will not be-t-t-tray my friends again. I w-will die first."

The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes and the man was lifted up. Pettigrew grabbed wildly at an invisible rope around his neck. His face had a purplish tinge, his eyes and tongue began to loll grotesquely.

"Shall we reconsider?" the Dark Lord smiled in his direction. "Your friends or your life?"

Pettigrew kicked the air pointlessly, pulling at the rope that encircled his neck and Severus heard the traitor gasp before choking words out. "M-m-my…friends…"

"YOUR FRIENDS!" the menacing man was on his feet in seconds and Pettigrew snapped up through the air, making a gurgling noise as he dangled higher than before. The man reached out and hit the purpling face so hair the spell dissipated for a moment, causing him to fall. Pettigrew drew in a raged breath before he was jerked up again. "Your friends or your life?"

The man was stumbling to get something out. "Friends."

Severus had to give Pettigrew credit. When he found out moments ago that Pettigrew was the traitor he expected the man to break within seconds but he was willing to give his life for people. It was sickening.

"They don't even like you!" The Dark Lord barked. "They think you're annoying, that you're a nuisance. You're nothing to them, Pettigrew. Nothing."

Even as Pettigrew struggled with both hands for air to draw half a breath, he glanced down at The Dark Lord with a look of contempt. "I'd…d-d-d-die…for them."

The Dark Lord nearly laughed. "Yes. But would they die for you?" He continued without waiting for an answer. "Think about it, Pettigrew. What are you to them? Potter treats you like an infant, like a first-year. And Lupin only talks to you because nobody else does. And Black—" The Dark Lord smiled maliciously. "Dear Sirius. He's quite beautiful, isn't he? And sometimes, when he talks to you, he can make you feel as though you're actually someone that he actually cares for."

Pettigrew's face twisted into hate. The helplessness of his eyes, silent in their fury, was positively delightful.

"You want him, don't you?" The Dark Lord whispered, stepping closer. "Oh yes, you want him." Severus swallowed the bile that was burning his throat. "Unrequited love," The Dark Lord crooned.

The demonic man smiled at the tears that had now wetted the man's cheeks. With a sly look around the room, Severus knew instantly that he wasn't the only one who was on edge. Rodolphus was fidgeting. Neither of them understood why the Dark Lord was so focused on this man.

"Touching. But hopeless. How does it feel to have your love forced into silence? How does it sicken day by day from an impossible dream? It's hopeless."

Pettigrew had shut his eyes, turning his face away resolutely. The Dark Lord leaned closer. "Your friends—or your life?"

Pettigrew smiled again, a brief grimace before he gasped again for breath, but The Dark Lord thought it might have been a pitying sort of smile. "M-my… fr—"

"Your friends—or your life?"

Pettigrew squirmed with renewed vigor. His eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes rolled and stared with unfocused blankness. His lips seemed to have trouble forming the words, but after many failed attempts, The Dark Lord made out the whimpers: "M-m-myyy… f-frieeen—enn—"

The Dark Lord snarled. "Your friends—or your life?"

Saliva was leaking out from the corners of Pettigrew's mouth. His limbs moved only jerked in brief spasms. His pupils had dilated to the point that the irises had become invisible.

"Well?" The Dark Lord demanded, spittle flying from his mouth, his voice a garbled hiss of power and rage. "Must I break you for you to confess?"

Pettigrew's face contorted as the Dark Lord did something to him. Severus glanced at the others in the room. Only Bellatrix was staring at the Dark Lord with a love-struck gaze, the rest of them looked rather green and confused. The Dark Lord let out an irritated growl and dropped Pettigrew to the ground.

The man was gasping for air and his watery eyes met Severus' and for a moment, Severus couldn't look away. There was a betrayal there…he knew that the Marauders didn't care about him. Serves him right. Severus thought but there was still a twinge in his chest. He couldn't help but feel some sympathy for rat.

"Out…now." The Dark Lord snarled.

Immediately they all bowed and slid from the room. Severus stalked back to his potions. After a few hours, Peter Pettigrew was the furthest thing from his mind.