fox_confessor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
fox_confessor) wrote2012-02-14 05:06 pm
fox_confessor) wrote2012-02-14 05:06 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: These Four Kings (Year 7 9/18)
Title: These Four Kings (Year Seven 9/18)
Author: Dani (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
escribo)
Word count: ~2300
Rating: R
Pairings: Lily/James (in the future will be Remus/Sirius)
Timeline: December 24-25
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I've not made nor seek any profit.
Year 1: one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven
Year 2: one/ two/ three/ four
Year 3: one/ two/three/four
Year 4 (coming in the future when work quits eating my brains! Sorry for the out-of-order-ness)
Year 5 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight
Year 6 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine
Summer one/ two
Year 7 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/sixteen/seventeen/eighteen
Leaving Hogwarts one/two/three/four (the end)
The house was on the edge of London, in a section of town Peter had never been to before and never wanted to visit again. It looked abandoned, rather like the Shrieking Shack, but Marit said that it was just the anti-Muggle wards. She was right, of course. Inside was like a fine hotel, or rather what Peter imagined a fine hotel must look like, but people lived here, though he wasn't sure who. It wasn't that kind of party, where you sat down to dinner and discussed whatever had been in that morning's Daily Prophet, as he'd done at the Potter's twice before, once to celebrate the Potter's anniversary and another when James had been made Head Boy. The Potters were different, and Peter had only to mimic James in his fine dress robes as he picked through heaps of silverware and made what he hoped had been polite small talk with James' great aunt. James hadn't been invited to this party, and wouldn't have come if he had.
This was just a party, Marit had said, and she wanted him to take her, though she had performed a complicated bit of magic on them both so that he almost hadn't recognized his reflection. He'd become taller and nearly handsome, and she was quite pretty, especially in the dim light. The point was, however, that she was embarrassed of him, at least in front of her rich, pureblood, Slytherin friends, and he couldn't quite forget that as they stood in the middle of an enormous ballroom lit by fairy lights and floating candles making awkward conversation. He'd spent most of the evening planning how he would break up with her on her doorstep once he took her home, striking before she decided she was through with him. It wasn't like he was in love with her, not like James loved Lily, and it would be easier this way since Sirius hated her, which meant James and Lily wouldn't double date with them so they went out alone or with her friends, who were dull as the tomb.
It was late, and they'd been there for hours, before someone finally put on some music. Catarina and the Charmers belted out a lively version of "Lift Your Wand and Dance, Dance, Dance", and Peter took a step back from Marit, shaking his head because he didn't like to dance, not in public--and especially not disco, even after James and Sirius had tried to teach him and an equally reluctant Remus, though slow would have been all right. Marit rolled her eyes and took his hands, impatience with him in every line of her body as she began to dance the Hustle, her sparkly purple robes spinning up to show off her pretty legs.
"I'm going to find the loo," he shouted over the music, tugging his hands away more firmly, and she nodded once and then spun away. Her sister was near with her new boyfriend, a tall boy with long blond hair, and Marit began dancing with them, Peter already forgotten.
Peter watched them for a moment before he turned to weave his way through the crowd, moving through the ballroom and into a smaller maze of studies and lounges. He didn't recognize anyone but every now again got the impression that someone knew him--or rather, knew he hung out with James and Sirius. It made him stand a bit taller, as if they were at his side, and he walked with more purpose, as if he knew where he was going (he didn't) and what he was doing (that at least was clear--find a quiet place to floo or disapparate and leave).
He couldn't find a floo, though, and quickly discovered that there were anti-apparition wards throughout the house, and had no clear memory which of a dozen hallways would lead him back out through the door they'd come in through. He was near giving up and heading back to the ballroom and Marit (at least then he could follow the truly awful music back to the dancers) when he came to a sweeping stairwell that looked at least vaguely familiar and let it carry him up to the next floor. He realized pretty quickly that he was wrong, that it had left him in what had to be the family's private living area, but before he could turn and flee, he finally saw someone he knew.
It always struck him as odd how very much alike yet different Regulus Black was from Sirius. It was in the movements more than anything else--how they walked and carried themselves, as if they owned the world, though Sirius did it with less conscious effort. Regulus was still handsome, too, with the same black hair (though trimmed short) and gray, intelligent eyes (though they never sparkled with any kind of mischief that Peter had ever seen) but his chin was less pronounce, his cheekbones less sharp. He never smiled, not like Sirius did, and even now he was scowling in Peter's direction.
"Pettigrew," Regulus bit out, and Peter jumped. He hadn't realized that Regulus even knew who he was though Peter could remember sharing a compartment on the Hogwart's Express with him the first time Regulus had come to school. "Lost?"
"No," Peter lied.
"Spying, then."
"Not likely. Why would I spy? I don't even know whose house this is."
"It's mine, of course, or at least it belongs to my family, and I don't remember you on the guest list."
"I came with Marit."
"She's still slumming then."
"Perhaps it's me whose slumming," Peter said, imperiously tipping up his chin as he'd seen Sirius do a thousand times before. Something about it made the corners of Regulus' lips tip up though he didn't smile outright and it felt menacing rather than welcoming.
"Did my brother send you?"
"I'm really not here to spy on you or anyone else, and I would gladly leave if I could find the way out."
"You are lost, then, and a liar."
"I'm not."
"I don't know how my brother stands the sight of you, though he's always reveled in low connections."
"He wasn't the one talking with Fenrir Grayback." Surprise registered on Regulus' face before it turned into something else--calculated. Ugly. For the first time, Peter felt truly afraid for a moment and wished he hadn't reminded Regulus of that day--of his part or of Remus. He had no doubt that Sirius would be furious if he heard of it. As it was, Peter took a step back toward the staircase, meaning to scurry back the way he'd come.
"You have been listening at doors, haven't you," Regulus said as he slid his hands into the pockets of his robes but thankfully didn't withdraw his wand. "Best not to repeat it, Pettigrew, especially not to my brother."
"I didn't hear anything, honestly."
"Exactly. Down the stairs and to your right. The house elf will show you the way out."
Peter turned and nearly tripped over an ugly little house elf who seized him by his wrist and nearly dragged him from the house. The door slammed behind him as soon as he was through it, and Peter took in a gulp of the cold night air, turning to make sure he was truly alone. He found he was and that the house had sagged back into a derelict shack, all signs of the party gone. For a moment he thought he should apparate straight back to the the Potters and tell James what happened but as he rehearsed his lines, it sounded ridiculous. He hadn't overheard anything. He had nothing to report other than Regulus was just as mad as Sirius sometimes was, just as peculiar and paranoid. Instead, he turned on the spot and landed in his own room, shaking off Marit's strange magic and collapsing some time later in his own bed.
It was still dark when he woke up to the sound of James' owl rapping at his window pane. He pushed it open and Aether rushed in, a letter hastily tied to its leg. Are you safe? it ran in James' scrawl and Peter fumbled for a quill, answering yes before sending the bird back on her way. It wasn't until later, when he was more awake, that he began to think it curious but then it was Christmas and easily pushed from his mind.
Downstairs, he found his mum in the sitting room, her smoky grey cat wending its way between her legs as she sat smoking. Her head was tipped back and she had a flannel over her eyes, hungover no doubt.
"Is there tea?" Peter asked, and his mum flinched but said nothing, her mouth a grim line. "I'll make some then, shall I?"
Peter put a cup of tea at his mother's elbow and a slice of toast from his own plate of baked beans and eggs, the only meal he could cook on his own, and sat on the opposite end of the couch to eat. The lights on their tiny Christmas tree flickered weakly, the spell weak as his mother never bothered with real fairies. There were four packages tucked beneath it, three from James, Remus, and Sirius, Peter knew because he'd put them there himself when he'd first come home a few days ago. "Is that mine?" He asked, pointing when his mum opened her eyes.
"It's not much," she said wearily. "I didn't have time what with everything going on."
Peter retrieved his small pile of presents and retreated back to his place on the couch. What was going on, he knew, was that his step-father had left with the bar maid, a squib, and took everything that had been in their Gringotts' account, leaving only his debt behind. The pub would be sold, and Peter wasn't sad about it.
"It's all right," he said, turning the clumsily wrapped gift over in his hands. It was soft, so likely a shirt, and he put it aside.
"Did you have fun last night with Marit? Isn't that her name? I didn't hear you come in. Such a lovely girl." His mother pulled the flannel from her eyes and smiled in her slow, flighty way. Her eyes were blood shot and she swiped at them before patting at her thin, blonde hair. "She reminds me of that girl your brother used to date when he was in his last year. What was her name?"
"Kindred," Peter supplied absently as he picked up another poorly wrapped gift and read its card, Peter from Sirius. He was surprised to find a wallet inside, iridescent green dragon skin and really nice. He was even more surprised to find a voucher inside for Gladrags.
"Kindred, yes," his mother continued on in a drowsy voice. "I thought maybe he would marry her and settle down but of course there were so many girls interested in him, do you remember, Peter? He's so handsome and smart..."
His mother continued on and Peter mostly blocked her out, sometimes humming out an answer when she seemed to require one. His brother was a favorite topic at any time but particularly when his mum was feeling down. He wanted to ask if she had once heard from him for anything other than more money since he left--ran away, his mind supplied. James wouldn't have left, Peter thought, and then remembered again the strange note he'd received in the early morning hours and the even stranger conversation he'd overheard the night before.
"Has the paper come?" He asked, cutting across her monologue.
"It's just there," she said, waving her hand toward the floor with the paper lay discarded in pieces.
The headline was three inches high, 19 Killed in Overnight Raids and Dozens Injured, with a picture of a burning house over which wavered a strange green sign in the sky. Peter opened the page beyond the fold and read further, recognizing the name of one of the boys Remus tutored, one of a group of first years who followed him about like ducklings, and then another--a girl who had been in their Charms class two years ago, a Hufflepuff who had a laugh like tiny bells.
"Did you see this?" He asked his mum, turning the paper toward her.
"You're safe, Peter. It's not purebloods who have to worry."
"How can you be sure? My father--"
"You're father will protect you."
"He doesn't even know me."
"Of course he knows you." His mother sat up and shook the paper at him before dropping it back on the floor. "I promised I would never tell even you who he is but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of muggle whore--"
"I didn't mean--"
"He's promised to protect you as long as you stay out of it, and you will too--both my boys will. The Potters can't do that much by you no matter how much their son has been your friend."
"But mum--"
She stood and cupped his cheek with his clammy hand, her smile vague and her eyes gone watery. "After you leave school, he's promised to find you a job in the Ministry, and he'll get us a nice flat in London, I'll see to that. It'll just be the two of us until it's safe for your brother to come back."
"Is is quite so dangerous for him, do you think?" Peter asked as he sat turning James' unwrapped gift to him over in his hands.
"Of course, dear. He's quite important, not even able to tell his own mum all he did."
Peter let the sound of his mum's voice wash over him as she went on and on about his brother, his thoughts turning to this new information about his father. He found he didn't care--couldn't, it'd been so long that he couldn't care about a man he'd never met. He almost didn't believe her anyway. Instead, he picked up the paper and read it over again--nineteen murdered, just the beginning, it said, and he wondered the beginning of what?
continue
Author: Dani (
escribo)Word count: ~2300
Rating: R
Pairings: Lily/James (in the future will be Remus/Sirius)
Timeline: December 24-25
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. I've not made nor seek any profit.
Year 1: one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven
Year 2: one/ two/ three/ four
Year 3: one/ two/three/four
Year 4 (coming in the future when work quits eating my brains! Sorry for the out-of-order-ness)
Year 5 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight
Year 6 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/ nine
Summer one/ two
Year 7 one/ two/ three/ four/ five/ six/ seven/ eight/nine/ten/eleven/twelve/thirteen/fourteen/fifteen/sixteen/seventeen/eighteen
Leaving Hogwarts one/two/three/four (the end)
The house was on the edge of London, in a section of town Peter had never been to before and never wanted to visit again. It looked abandoned, rather like the Shrieking Shack, but Marit said that it was just the anti-Muggle wards. She was right, of course. Inside was like a fine hotel, or rather what Peter imagined a fine hotel must look like, but people lived here, though he wasn't sure who. It wasn't that kind of party, where you sat down to dinner and discussed whatever had been in that morning's Daily Prophet, as he'd done at the Potter's twice before, once to celebrate the Potter's anniversary and another when James had been made Head Boy. The Potters were different, and Peter had only to mimic James in his fine dress robes as he picked through heaps of silverware and made what he hoped had been polite small talk with James' great aunt. James hadn't been invited to this party, and wouldn't have come if he had.
This was just a party, Marit had said, and she wanted him to take her, though she had performed a complicated bit of magic on them both so that he almost hadn't recognized his reflection. He'd become taller and nearly handsome, and she was quite pretty, especially in the dim light. The point was, however, that she was embarrassed of him, at least in front of her rich, pureblood, Slytherin friends, and he couldn't quite forget that as they stood in the middle of an enormous ballroom lit by fairy lights and floating candles making awkward conversation. He'd spent most of the evening planning how he would break up with her on her doorstep once he took her home, striking before she decided she was through with him. It wasn't like he was in love with her, not like James loved Lily, and it would be easier this way since Sirius hated her, which meant James and Lily wouldn't double date with them so they went out alone or with her friends, who were dull as the tomb.
It was late, and they'd been there for hours, before someone finally put on some music. Catarina and the Charmers belted out a lively version of "Lift Your Wand and Dance, Dance, Dance", and Peter took a step back from Marit, shaking his head because he didn't like to dance, not in public--and especially not disco, even after James and Sirius had tried to teach him and an equally reluctant Remus, though slow would have been all right. Marit rolled her eyes and took his hands, impatience with him in every line of her body as she began to dance the Hustle, her sparkly purple robes spinning up to show off her pretty legs.
"I'm going to find the loo," he shouted over the music, tugging his hands away more firmly, and she nodded once and then spun away. Her sister was near with her new boyfriend, a tall boy with long blond hair, and Marit began dancing with them, Peter already forgotten.
Peter watched them for a moment before he turned to weave his way through the crowd, moving through the ballroom and into a smaller maze of studies and lounges. He didn't recognize anyone but every now again got the impression that someone knew him--or rather, knew he hung out with James and Sirius. It made him stand a bit taller, as if they were at his side, and he walked with more purpose, as if he knew where he was going (he didn't) and what he was doing (that at least was clear--find a quiet place to floo or disapparate and leave).
He couldn't find a floo, though, and quickly discovered that there were anti-apparition wards throughout the house, and had no clear memory which of a dozen hallways would lead him back out through the door they'd come in through. He was near giving up and heading back to the ballroom and Marit (at least then he could follow the truly awful music back to the dancers) when he came to a sweeping stairwell that looked at least vaguely familiar and let it carry him up to the next floor. He realized pretty quickly that he was wrong, that it had left him in what had to be the family's private living area, but before he could turn and flee, he finally saw someone he knew.
It always struck him as odd how very much alike yet different Regulus Black was from Sirius. It was in the movements more than anything else--how they walked and carried themselves, as if they owned the world, though Sirius did it with less conscious effort. Regulus was still handsome, too, with the same black hair (though trimmed short) and gray, intelligent eyes (though they never sparkled with any kind of mischief that Peter had ever seen) but his chin was less pronounce, his cheekbones less sharp. He never smiled, not like Sirius did, and even now he was scowling in Peter's direction.
"Pettigrew," Regulus bit out, and Peter jumped. He hadn't realized that Regulus even knew who he was though Peter could remember sharing a compartment on the Hogwart's Express with him the first time Regulus had come to school. "Lost?"
"No," Peter lied.
"Spying, then."
"Not likely. Why would I spy? I don't even know whose house this is."
"It's mine, of course, or at least it belongs to my family, and I don't remember you on the guest list."
"I came with Marit."
"She's still slumming then."
"Perhaps it's me whose slumming," Peter said, imperiously tipping up his chin as he'd seen Sirius do a thousand times before. Something about it made the corners of Regulus' lips tip up though he didn't smile outright and it felt menacing rather than welcoming.
"Did my brother send you?"
"I'm really not here to spy on you or anyone else, and I would gladly leave if I could find the way out."
"You are lost, then, and a liar."
"I'm not."
"I don't know how my brother stands the sight of you, though he's always reveled in low connections."
"He wasn't the one talking with Fenrir Grayback." Surprise registered on Regulus' face before it turned into something else--calculated. Ugly. For the first time, Peter felt truly afraid for a moment and wished he hadn't reminded Regulus of that day--of his part or of Remus. He had no doubt that Sirius would be furious if he heard of it. As it was, Peter took a step back toward the staircase, meaning to scurry back the way he'd come.
"You have been listening at doors, haven't you," Regulus said as he slid his hands into the pockets of his robes but thankfully didn't withdraw his wand. "Best not to repeat it, Pettigrew, especially not to my brother."
"I didn't hear anything, honestly."
"Exactly. Down the stairs and to your right. The house elf will show you the way out."
Peter turned and nearly tripped over an ugly little house elf who seized him by his wrist and nearly dragged him from the house. The door slammed behind him as soon as he was through it, and Peter took in a gulp of the cold night air, turning to make sure he was truly alone. He found he was and that the house had sagged back into a derelict shack, all signs of the party gone. For a moment he thought he should apparate straight back to the the Potters and tell James what happened but as he rehearsed his lines, it sounded ridiculous. He hadn't overheard anything. He had nothing to report other than Regulus was just as mad as Sirius sometimes was, just as peculiar and paranoid. Instead, he turned on the spot and landed in his own room, shaking off Marit's strange magic and collapsing some time later in his own bed.
It was still dark when he woke up to the sound of James' owl rapping at his window pane. He pushed it open and Aether rushed in, a letter hastily tied to its leg. Are you safe? it ran in James' scrawl and Peter fumbled for a quill, answering yes before sending the bird back on her way. It wasn't until later, when he was more awake, that he began to think it curious but then it was Christmas and easily pushed from his mind.
Downstairs, he found his mum in the sitting room, her smoky grey cat wending its way between her legs as she sat smoking. Her head was tipped back and she had a flannel over her eyes, hungover no doubt.
"Is there tea?" Peter asked, and his mum flinched but said nothing, her mouth a grim line. "I'll make some then, shall I?"
Peter put a cup of tea at his mother's elbow and a slice of toast from his own plate of baked beans and eggs, the only meal he could cook on his own, and sat on the opposite end of the couch to eat. The lights on their tiny Christmas tree flickered weakly, the spell weak as his mother never bothered with real fairies. There were four packages tucked beneath it, three from James, Remus, and Sirius, Peter knew because he'd put them there himself when he'd first come home a few days ago. "Is that mine?" He asked, pointing when his mum opened her eyes.
"It's not much," she said wearily. "I didn't have time what with everything going on."
Peter retrieved his small pile of presents and retreated back to his place on the couch. What was going on, he knew, was that his step-father had left with the bar maid, a squib, and took everything that had been in their Gringotts' account, leaving only his debt behind. The pub would be sold, and Peter wasn't sad about it.
"It's all right," he said, turning the clumsily wrapped gift over in his hands. It was soft, so likely a shirt, and he put it aside.
"Did you have fun last night with Marit? Isn't that her name? I didn't hear you come in. Such a lovely girl." His mother pulled the flannel from her eyes and smiled in her slow, flighty way. Her eyes were blood shot and she swiped at them before patting at her thin, blonde hair. "She reminds me of that girl your brother used to date when he was in his last year. What was her name?"
"Kindred," Peter supplied absently as he picked up another poorly wrapped gift and read its card, Peter from Sirius. He was surprised to find a wallet inside, iridescent green dragon skin and really nice. He was even more surprised to find a voucher inside for Gladrags.
"Kindred, yes," his mother continued on in a drowsy voice. "I thought maybe he would marry her and settle down but of course there were so many girls interested in him, do you remember, Peter? He's so handsome and smart..."
His mother continued on and Peter mostly blocked her out, sometimes humming out an answer when she seemed to require one. His brother was a favorite topic at any time but particularly when his mum was feeling down. He wanted to ask if she had once heard from him for anything other than more money since he left--ran away, his mind supplied. James wouldn't have left, Peter thought, and then remembered again the strange note he'd received in the early morning hours and the even stranger conversation he'd overheard the night before.
"Has the paper come?" He asked, cutting across her monologue.
"It's just there," she said, waving her hand toward the floor with the paper lay discarded in pieces.
The headline was three inches high, 19 Killed in Overnight Raids and Dozens Injured, with a picture of a burning house over which wavered a strange green sign in the sky. Peter opened the page beyond the fold and read further, recognizing the name of one of the boys Remus tutored, one of a group of first years who followed him about like ducklings, and then another--a girl who had been in their Charms class two years ago, a Hufflepuff who had a laugh like tiny bells.
"Did you see this?" He asked his mum, turning the paper toward her.
"You're safe, Peter. It's not purebloods who have to worry."
"How can you be sure? My father--"
"You're father will protect you."
"He doesn't even know me."
"Of course he knows you." His mother sat up and shook the paper at him before dropping it back on the floor. "I promised I would never tell even you who he is but that doesn't mean I'm some kind of muggle whore--"
"I didn't mean--"
"He's promised to protect you as long as you stay out of it, and you will too--both my boys will. The Potters can't do that much by you no matter how much their son has been your friend."
"But mum--"
She stood and cupped his cheek with his clammy hand, her smile vague and her eyes gone watery. "After you leave school, he's promised to find you a job in the Ministry, and he'll get us a nice flat in London, I'll see to that. It'll just be the two of us until it's safe for your brother to come back."
"Is is quite so dangerous for him, do you think?" Peter asked as he sat turning James' unwrapped gift to him over in his hands.
"Of course, dear. He's quite important, not even able to tell his own mum all he did."
Peter let the sound of his mum's voice wash over him as she went on and on about his brother, his thoughts turning to this new information about his father. He found he didn't care--couldn't, it'd been so long that he couldn't care about a man he'd never met. He almost didn't believe her anyway. Instead, he picked up the paper and read it over again--nineteen murdered, just the beginning, it said, and he wondered the beginning of what?
continue
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"one of the boys Remus tutored, one of a group of first years who followed him about like ducklings" just about broke my heart. Oh, Remus. And it's only going to get worse. God, how do you do this to me then make me want more? Because I do, I really, really do.
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Peter asked as he sat turning James' unwrapped gift to him over in his hands.
I love the way you write seemingly mundane actions that really make all the difference to the feeling of the scene.
*sits back in seat and waits patiently for the next bit*
XD
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Most of the next bit is written except I can't decide when or how to start it...
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Can't wait for the next chapter! It's getting so dark now...I wonder how many times I'm going to cry before this fic is over XDD
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*reads it*
You make Peter seem... so Peter, Its exactly how i imagined him to be!
can't wait for more :D
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As always, I loved this chapter. Thanks for updating :)
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(Anonymous) 2012-02-28 10:51 am (UTC)(link)no subject
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(Anonymous) 2012-03-02 10:37 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
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I do love Peter's backstory here. It's very believable and makes him so much more human. I agree with the 'nuture vs nature' comment above - you craft a delicate mix of both here.
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