shadower (shadower) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-08-05 02:45:00 |
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A few years earlier, Peter Pettigrew would have found it ridiculous that he at any point in his life might be more interested in caramel than in James Potter, but as he waited for James to arrive, idly flipping through his journal hoping that someone might write something new unwarded to help ease his boredom, he found himself more anxious for the caramel that James said he would bring than to actually see James himself. He set down his journal and laid down on the bed, staring at the ceiling. There were dots up there he could count, and that too might be more intersting than re-reading all the apologies that Peter was sure were only given out of guilt. All of the staff at the Rehabilitation Centre knew James by now and they always greeted him with a smile since he was most certainly their greatest success. He'd bought extra candy for a few of the ladies on the staff and he passed it out as he signed himself in. They were letting him keep his wand now and everything, and he made a silly joke about starting to get paid for all the time he spent here. it was true, honestly. The Rehab Centre was one of the few places that felt like home to James. He was shown to Peter's "room" and let in by a guard who told him to yell if he had any trouble. He tossed the box of caramels onto Pete's bed, along with an envelope, as soon as the guard had shut the door. "S'been awhile," James said, leaning against the door. It wouldn't surprise him if they were being listened to, so there wasn't much he would say that might sound bad, but casual conversation wouldn't hurt. He looked around the room briefly. "Not a bad set up." Peter reached first thing for the caramels, taking one out of the box and sticking it straight into his mouth. "Still doesn't mean I want to be here," he said as he chewed. He glanced up briefly at his fellow Marauder, then looked away again, putting a second caramel into his mouth as he examined the envelope that James had given him. It was Sirius' handwriting. His 'death letters.' They'd all written them - Peter had rewritten his quite a few times as things changed, as people he had once written them to had died and he instead read theirs. An uncomfortable feeling fell over him but he ripped the envelope open quickly and devoured the contents. Sirius had been thinking of him. And talking about him to Alice. But about a concert, not about how Peter was stuck in this rehab centre. Not about how he wouldn't rest until his friend was free again. About a bloody concert. That was it, really, and then a little bit about what the Marauders meant to him and then how Peter should be strong. It was short, it barely seemed personalised, and Peter couldn't believe after that many years of friendship, that was the letter that Sirius would send. It once again reminded Peter that yes, he wasn't the type of person Sirius would be friends with. Once again, Peter really didn't mean much to the Order or to Sirius anything more than some concert tickets. He crumpled it up and threw it into the corner. "I hate it here," he told James. James walked over to the corner and picked up the letter and stuffed it back in his pocket. "I'll keep this for you," he said. He wasn't going to be able to leave it anyway, but if Peter didn't want to take good care of Sirius's words than James would. What Pete said next was more difficult to respond to though. "I wasn't that fond of it really, when I was stuck here all the time. But if you'd consider what Gaius has to say, and if you hadn't tried that secret code, maybe you'd get out soon enough. I can't live with Uncle Charlus forever so I might be getting a flat soon. It's possible you could stay with me," James suggested. "I know things have changed, but we were friends," he said. "I'm not thrilled that you gave up my name-- that was pretty shitty of you to be perfectly honest-- but we all make mistakes, yeah? I mean, I made plenty and I've recovered." Sirius's words taunted him as he spoke, so well rehearsed that Gaius could be standing in the room with him now and be proud. And maybe that wasn't how James felt, but here in this building, it was automatic. Peter said nothing at first and instead put yet another caramel into his mouth. He stared at the wall a moment, contemplating James' words. It had been a while ago he had written that badly-coded message to Remus, but the change in James had been so sudden that he was just surprised. Peter had been in rehab ages longer but he wasn't acting like James had. Of course, James seemed happier now. And like he might actually have a future that wasn't spending the rest of his life hiding from Death Eaters, and while he wasn't quite sure how he felt about this all since James had a wife and an unborn child still, Peter certainly couldn't say he fully thought James should go back. He didn't really want to go back himself, not when the Order was just being picked off and killed. "It's a lot easier for you though," he told James bitterly. "You're pureblooded." "Severus isn't a pureblood and he's made a name and place for himself," James said easily. "I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, but he's well tolerated and even respected," he said. "Look, Pete, I know that it's all confusing, but it is possible to be an asset to society and not be a Death Eater. No one's tried to confuse me or fuck with my brain, they've just tried to show me that there's another way-- a better way-- and that's the way it's always been meant to be. And believe it or not, I'm here to help." He leaned over and took one of Peter's caramels. "I'll bring you more this week," he promised. "If you'll do something for me," he said. Crossing his arms, Peter frowned again, but this wasn't his normal frown, it was his thinking frown. The frown he got when he knew the other person might have a point but he still wanted to be bitter. Maybe James was right. Snive- Severus had done it, and he was ugly and never washed his hair, yet he worked in the Ministry of Magic. He would have to think about it. "Maybe," he replied to James. "Whaddya want me to do?" "Come with me to scatter Padfoot's ashes," he said. "If I can get Gaius to let you out with me for a little while," he said. "Would you? Can't do it alone-- doesn't feel right. Should be the Marauders, or what's fucking left of them." James's voice was quiet. "Don't know really if they'll even give them to me or not, but it's what he wanted." The words cracked off at the end and James bit down hard on his bottom lip. He wanted so badly to grieve in front of someone who'd give a damn, but would Pete? James didn't even know anymore but he was so tired of feeling like he had to bear all the sadness for this alone. Peter looked down at his hands which were in his lap and holding another caramel. He let the caramel drop onto the bed and thought about James' request. He was mad at Sirius, that their friendship had been a lie, but he was still saddened by his death. In addition, it wouldn't be Sirius hurt by Peter's refusal to go, it would be James, and Peter was starting to believe that maybe James was right. Maybe he was really trying to help and, honestly, the way James was seeing things seemed to be making a lot more sense than how they had all been seeing things before. Plus there was the caramels. And getting out of the Centre, even for just a little while. He would probably go. He opened his mouth to tell James he would and then a thought struck him. "You aren't asking Remus too, are you?" James made a face. "No. Remus is not our friend," James said. "And he wasn't Sirius's friend. And I don't want anything to do with him." He shoved his hands in his pocket, and when he spoke it was very sincere. "You've always been our friend Pete. I know that to everyone, including you, it probably always looked like the James and Sirius show but that wasn't how we saw it, and it's definitely not how it's going to be now. I'd like to trust you. I'd like us to be friends and muddle through all this shit together," he insisted. "I'm still confused-- And Sirius only made it worse, but when have the lot of us apart ever been better off then when we were sticking together?" Peter looked at James dubiously, then sighed and picked up his box of caramels, opening up a spot next to him on his bed. He motioned to it, indicating that James should sit down rather than just standing there, and sighed again. "Yeah, I'll go with you," he told James. "Of course I will." If Mr. Travers would let him, but he and James seemed to be getting along pretty well now, so Peter expected that he probably would. "And once I'm out of here, I'd really like to live with you, as long as your uncle's fine with it. I'm certainly not going back to them, that's for sure." "I'm hoping to have my own place before long," he said. "Something Uncle Charles and Gaius approve of, but we could have a flat maybe. Start all over. I dunno. But what I do know is that I'm not leaving you behind Pete. Where ever I end up, you're coming with me." And with that James pushed himself up. "S'probably time for me to go but I'll see if I can't get you out for a little bit," he said. "I'm sure there will be restrictions but I'll ask as nicely as I can. And either way I'll bring you back some more caramels," he promised. "It'd help though if you wrote in your journal that you'd like to talk to Gaius and then tell him that after talking to me you know now that you want to be agreeable to what he has to say. Whether you mean it or not, it's a start," James suggested. And with that he knocked on the door and the guard opened it. "I'll see you around Pete." "See ya," Peter nodded as James left. That had actually gone pretty well. |