#<7500

                He almost made it out of Diagon Alley when he bumped into someone's arm. Oh, Merlin, he thought. Please ignore me—everyone else can, so can you—

                "Excuse me," the man said.

                Peter didn't look back. That was all right. He could get by with ignoring a dismissive "excuse me." But he felt the man's eyes on him, boring into the back of his head.

                "Peter?"

                The wizard stopped and hesitated. He'd know that voice anywhere. That kind voice… Finally, Peter looked over his shoulder. "Remus…?"

                Remus Lupin, your friendly neighborhood werewolf, blinked, and Peter knew he was sizing up his old school friend. How could Remus not? It had been…what? Months since Remus, Sirius, or James had seen Peter? The last thing Peter remembered, he'd seen Lily crying into James' shoulder and Remus and Sirius with their heads bowed close when it was announced at an Order of the Phoenix meeting that Fabian and Gideon Prewett had been murdered.

                And Peter knew who'd murdered them. But Remus didn't know about James and Lily's need for a Secret-Keeper…which Sirius had thought to make Peter.

                "Um…you've lost weight," Remus babbled. Peter wondered if Remus knew how his scarred face flushed slightly; the Animagus understood that Remus likely was trying to be polite and not comment on how ill Peter looked. Peter knew he looked bad; all the time spent with the Death Eaters…it had taken its toll on him.

                Peter managed a shaky, partial smile. "Yeah… I haven't had much of an appetite." Which was true.

                "Why?"

                "Eh…nothing much… Just caught a bit of the summer flu, I s'pose," Peter lied. If Remus bought that, then Peter deserved an award. That lie, Peter considered, was of Sirius proportions.

                Remus nodded; perhaps he looked a little skeptical, but, if he was, he didn't say it. "So are you back for good?"

                The question caught Peter off-guard. "Sorry?"

                "You've been here and there," the werewolf explained gently. "I was wondering if you're back for good. At least for now. Dumbledore sure keeps you busy on missions."

                Peter visibly paled—he could see in the reflection of Remus' brown eyes that he looked as white as the whites of Remus' eyes. Of course Remus would reason that Peter had been working for Dumbledore on Order missions. Why wouldn't he? A sick, dark part of Peter commended him for being able to hide his allegiances so well that even the brilliant Remus Lupin was fooled. "Dumbledore—er, right. Well, I dunno really. …there's a lot for even a worm like me to do." He smiled to an extent. He really was a worm, the way he writhed about at the Death Eaters' orders… Regulus' disappearance had not affected them at all; they were all for the Dark Lord, with the Dark Lord for all. Peter admired that faith in such a powerful man… He and his Death Eaters didn't seem like the pushovers Dumbledore and the Order were.

                Remus grinned. "Then you should grab some ice-cream with me," he suggested. "The sugar will give you energy!"

                They shared a laugh, and Peter was reminded of the old days. He was painfully aware of the old days…but he was also painfully aware of the times when he'd been the butt of Sirius and James' jokes, the times when not even his friends could keep other students from making fun of him, the times when Peter had felt inclined to believe Lily that maybe Snape was a nice bloke after all… Snape's cold politeness had felt a lot nicer than Sirius and James' hostile friendship quite a bit of the time towards the end of their Hogwarts years. Of course, Lily ended up turning her back on Snape, but Peter left the communication lines open. Good thing, too, as they'd been an opening to join the elite…the powerful ones, the Death Eaters… Still, Remus was trying, and Peter felt he at least owed Remus, who'd tried to stand up for him, a pleasant façade. "I'd love to wolf down—" He paused. That pun had slipped out…but it was a nice little accident that almost warmed Peter as he and Remus shared in another laugh.

                "My treat," Remus offered. He raised his eyebrows, his expression saying he knew it could be dangerous to one's wallet to treat Peter Pettigrew to any food. Peter had always been able to out-eat the other three Marauders combined.

                "I'd love to scarf down one quintuple-scoop sundae…but I can't," he replied. His eyes darkened as he thought what the others might do to him if he arrived at the meeting late. It didn't matter that the Death Eaters didn't let him do all that much; if even scum like him were late, they were punished. Peter kept his body still so as not to shiver.

                "Oh." Remus' face fell.

                Peter knew that Remus was trying—just as he always had—and Peter's heart went out to him. "Hey, another time…mate." Merlin, such a word had never felt so heavy and leaden on Peter's tongue. How could he convince himself that it was all right to use such a word when he'd been reporting about the Order's goings-on to the—the—the enemy?

                The enemy? But…wasn't the Order really the enemy, considering with whom Peter had allied himself? And…could he even consider that an alliance…?

                Peter turned to go but froze when Remus offered his hand by way of goodbye.

                This…was it. Could Peter brush the hand off? Could he shake it and act as though nothing had changed?

                Could he…rely on that worn, scarred hand?

                Peter swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his friend's hand, fully intending to let that be that and to get on his way to the Lestrange residence. But the warmth of Remus' palm melted Peter's ice. The good memories he'd frozen away were free again, and tears broke free to run down Peter's round face.

                It'd been so long since Peter had last cried, he'd nearly forgotten how it felt.

                "Wormtail, what's wrong? Wormtail?" Remus asked, his hackles up as he watched his friend fall apart. Remus gingerly placed an arm around the Animagus, which only aggravated Peter's anguish further.

                "P-P-Please don't c-ca—call me that, Remus…!" he gasped.

                Remus led him to the side of the street. Peter probably was drawing a crowd, but he couldn't exactly look into Remus' eyes. Not when they were looking that concerned. "What—? Why not, Wor—Peter?"

                "Because," Peter breathed, his voice shaky. He straightened up and—though he couldn't look Remus in the eye—he looked at Remus' face, focusing on the scars. "Because the Dark Lord calls me that."

                It was the only time Peter had ever shown any Gryffindor courage.

                Judging by Remus' face, the thought didn't immediately sink in. When it did, Remus—as though on instinct—tried to hide his disgust. Not even kind ol' Moony could completely tolerate or digest what Peter had just said.

                "You…what?" Remus' voice was hollow-sounding.

                Peter dropped his eyes back to the ground, his energy and courage spent just looking at Remus' face when he had revealed his secret. "The Dark Lord calls me that."

                "Stop saying that."

                "I mean it, Remus. The Dark Lord calls me 'Wormtail' and—"

                "Stop saying his name as though you're his follower!" the werewolf hissed. He took several deep breaths to calm down. "Don't call him that. You—you don't—" But the color drained from Remus' face as realization dawned.

                "I've…I've been his follower…"

                "For how long?"

                "Unofficially, since seventh year. Officially, since graduation." Peter winced as he heard the words spilling from his own mouth. "I wanted to tell you, but I would never tell Sirius or James…"

                Remus rubbed his hand over his mouth and looked at the rat. "That's what we're doing. And now."

                Peter panicked. "What? No, Remus, no! Not now—I—" He'd only just been able to tell Remus. But…of course the other two Marauders would have to know. They always knew everything about the others. Well, almost everything.

                But the werewolf was resolute in his decision, and he grasped Peter's upper arm tightly as they wended their way to St. Mungo's. Remus said nothing else until they met with the others on their way out. Sirius was with James and Lily, who looked as though they'd just come from a checkup with one of the Healers. Harry looked so innocent in Lily's arms…

                Peter felt about as innocent as Voldemort and Grindelwald combined.

                Remus made eye contact with Sirius, and the two of them stepped aside to exchange low words that sounded more like personal growls only they could understand. James turned to Peter and grinned. "Hey, Wormtail, how've ya been? It's been ages since we've seen you." Lily smiled and gestured to Harry.

                The idea of smiling at them physically repulsed him. He didn't have that right, and he knew it.

                In the next moment, Remus and Sirius were back, and Sirius had a manic look in his eye. "Yes, Peter, ages." Sirius' words were curt and cutting. He was long past livid with the rat. Peter presumed Sirius would've killed him then and there if everyone else hadn't been present.

                "I know I should die," Peter blurted.

                Sirius was stunned by his agreement, as was Remus, though the Potters were only frightened by his odd behavior. But Sirius regained his footing easily. "Let's go, Peter. We've lots to discuss."

                Remus said something brief to James, who in turn spoke to Lily. Without another word, the Potters left, and Remus and Sirius took Peter with them to their flat. "It's…nice in here," Peter rambled, looking for any old words to fill the awkward silence he knew he deserved.

                Sirius reeled around and nearly hit him. At the last second, Remus caught his arm and hugged it tightly so Sirius couldn't swing at Peter again. "How dare you!" he bellowed.

                "I know!" Peter yelled. "I know! I dared—out of hurt, out of insecurity, out of rebellion!" Peter slumped on the floor and drew his knees up to his head, balling his fists in his eyes as he cried and continued to let Sirius, his once friend, scream at him.

                "We trusted you! We all trusted you! We thought you were one of us—not just a Marauder, but one of the Order of the Phoenix! You were one of us—and you betrayed us, you betrayed them!"

                Peter didn't need any elaboration for who "they" were. He knew exactly what the Black son meant.

                Sirius continued to hurl insults and rebuffs at him. The whole time, Peter listened to them melding with the sound of his crying. He had never felt he'd deserved anything like this from Sirius. But that was before he'd signed up for the Dark Lord's service at the same time he'd joined the Order.

                So Peter couldn't say "sorry." He didn't think an apology could suffice.

                After a long while, Remus spoke to Sirius about them eating, about it getting late. Sirius suggested Remus go out and get them something, and Remus did, only after Sirius promised Peter would be in the same shape he was presently when Remus returned. Then Sirius was suddenly tearing Peter's hands away from his tear-blotched brown eyes. "Tell me you didn't tell him."

                "No, I haven't!" Peter cried.

                Sirius breathed a huge sigh of relief, and his shoulders slackened. "Thank Merlin…!" When he next looked up, the craze in his eyes was gone, but the fury was still there. "How? How could you do this, Peter? How could you go to him?"

                "How could you think I never would?" he spat back. "With the way you treated me… I never felt like a true part of the Marauders! The only time I did was when we found out Remus' secret! You and James were in the same boat as me—almost. Because you two had had an inkling. And you never shared that inkling with me. But you never shared anything with me. You might've said I was a Marauder, but it was in name only! I was like Frank—nothing more than a roommate, than a fellow Gryffindor who—honestly, in your eyes—didn't deserve to be in the same House as you!" Just like that, nearly ten years of anguish, torment, and being victimized were out in the open, unable to be ignored any longer.

                Sirius sat and listened. Peter figured Remus finally had rubbed off on him; go figure it took them moving in together for that to finally happen. But Sirius listened, just as Peter had listened to Sirius' initial outburst earlier.

                Because, as handsome and friendly as he could be, Sirius Black still had been a bully. They all knew it; it just hadn't been said so rightly before.

                When Peter felt he'd run out of voice, Sirius stared at the floor. He'd gone uncharacteristically quiet so much so that Peter was more scared now than when Sirius had been screaming bloody murder at him. But Sirius didn't attack him. "I'm…sorry…Peter."

                Peter couldn't fathom the idea of an apology of any sort from Sirius Black. It was too absurd, too unrealistic even to consider. Yet, here it was. Peter went slack-jawed in awe, regaining his composure only when a question formed. "So…what now?"

                Sirius raised his eyebrows. "As long as James and Lily are safe, we can't have taken too bad a hit… Just…" Sirius winced. "Tell me—tell me that Dorcas and Marlene—tell me that they weren't because of you."

                Peter lowered his eyes. "Dorcas and Marlene weren't."

                Sirius exhaled.

                "But the Prewett twins were."

                Sirius' sharp intake of breath made Peter wince, but Sirius didn't hit him again. He stood, though he didn't offer Peter a hand up. "For your sake, Peter…I hope you don't ever force me to tell Molly that."

                Peter nodded, understanding Sirius would keep that bit of information in reserve to hold over Peter. Though, really, there wasn't much to hold over him when Peter had long ago started feeling as though he had little left for which he could live.

                "Are you going to—to tell Dumbledore?" Peter whispered.

                "…no. I think we can be adults here and sort this out ourselves. But, Peter, you're going to be living with Remus and me from now on."

                "So you can keep an eye on me."

                "You give me no other choice, Wormtail!"

                Peter winced again. "I know… But you'll have to let me go from time to time. Otherwise—"

                "The Death Eaters will come looking for you. I know, I know…" Sirius sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, not looking down at Peter. "But…Peter…do me a favor."

                "Anything, Sirius."

                "Please get up off the floor. The way you look…you're—you're not our prisoner."

                Peter scrambled to stand. The idea that, even in the least, Sirius might consider him still to be one of them was uplifting, to say the least. Peter went to thank him when Remus returned, and reality was pushed to the backs of their minds as hunger took priority.

                Telling James and Lily had not been any easier. Lily had cried so hard that Peter was sure James would hex him into oblivion for that alone. But, when Sirius assured them that Peter would be under his and Remus' watchful eyes, James calmed enough merely to glare at Peter.

                "You're bloody lucky Padfoot didn't kill you," James snarled.

                Peter nodded glumly.

                "I've half a mind to do it for him myself."

                "James!" Lily admonished. She took Harry upstairs so he didn't have to listen to his father speak so vulgarly.

                James watched his wife disappear upstairs before looking at Sirius. "We should do something about the charm. It's not going to protect us any longer."

                Peter's eyes widened. "What? No! I swear, I'd never tell, James! I'd—I'd die before I tell him!"

                Sirius raised his eyebrows at James, who just glared at Peter. "That's quite the claim from you, Peter," Sirius said quietly.

                Peter stared at the coffee table that acted as a barrier between him and James. He'd look anywhere but at their faces. He'd just scared himself with what he'd said.

                "How can we…" James sighed, and it appeared the fight went out of him. He hung his head and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. James had never looked so defeated, not even after a Quidditch loss. The sight made Peter look away from James' reflection in the coffee table's glass. "How can we continue with this…?" James asked quietly.

                "He'll be staying with Moony and me," Sirius stated. "Except for the few times we let him out. Can't raise ol' Voldy's suspicions, you know…"

                "And you don't want to go to Dumbledore with this?" James inquired, glancing at his best mate.

                "Nah, we've got it," the gray-eyed wizard replied. "Besides, if there was one thing Peter was always trusted for…well, he always did come back to us, didn't he?"

                "Yeah…"

                When Lily returned, she saw her husband and looked at Sirius. Then she stomped over and smacked Peter, hard, across the mouth. But she had no words for him; her eyes were still too full of tears for words to mean much.

                After she left the room again, James looked at Peter. "You should probably leave."

                "James, I'm—"

                "Just shut up, Wormtail…," he breathed. James removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "I've…I've got some things to sort out."

                Peter nodded, and he followed Sirius out of the Potter residence in Godric's Hollow. "I'm bound to become a mute, aren't I?"

                "It'd help us out, wouldn't it?" Sirius asked rhetorically, a slight hard edge to his tone. His companion agreed, and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

~Winter~

                 "You're late, Wormtail."

                Peter doubted he'd ever be able to fight the chills that ran up and down his spine whenever he heard "Wormtail" spoken by that voice. "I'm so s-s-s-s-s-sorry, m-m-m-master," he stuttered.

                Sitting in the only chair in the room, Lord Voldemort didn't even turn his head Peter's way. "Why are you late so often these frigid days, Wormtail?"

                The Animagus bit his lower lip. He knew Bellatrix was smirking and probably trying to hold in her laughter. He knew Lucius was glaring at him, thinking that Peter didn't belong amongst their ranks. Narcissa, Rodolphus, and Rabastan—for sure they were wearing apathetic expressions. Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott probably were looking only to Voldemort for news of their next exploit. The rest… Peter inwardly cursed. The rest were either like them or like Peter, and therefore didn't matter.

                "Your master asked you a question, Wormtail," Voldemort said, a little more insistent.

                "I-I-I've b-b-been k-kept by the Order longer these d-d-days."

                "Have you brought me any knowledge of worth?"

                "N-Nothing, sir. The Order has n-not been as active…"

                The room in Malfoy Manor was eerily quiet as Voldemort chewed on his thoughts. "…very well, Wormtail. I believe you."

                Peter fought the spot of relief that threatened to wash over him visibly.

                "But, if you continue to delay our meetings, I will have to waste my energy using Occlumency on you. Do not make me waste my energy on the likes of you, Wormtail."

                "Of course not, sir." Peter bowed his head low; he probably would've done better to kiss the ground at the Dark Lord's feet, but he couldn't bring even himself to do so. In his heart of hearts, he knew that being here was wrong…or was it? Peter's head ached so much these months… One side looked strong, the other looked bright and right, and Peter had a hard time figuring out who was good or bad. It didn't matter that he'd made the decision to tell his friends; that didn't change the fact that he couldn't agree with everything they did. But neither could he agree with everything the Death Eaters did. It was times like these that made the Animagus wish he was a plain old Muggle with no knowledge of the Wizarding world whatsoever.

                Peter half listened to what went on during the meeting. He was much too anxious, and he preferred to return to Remus and Sirius sooner rather than later. Bellatrix noticed his jumpiness and took to calling him "Twitchy" for the rest of the evening, yelling at him just for fun and to see him jolt.

                "Twitchy" lasted through the next several meetings until Peter got used to it and Bellatrix became bored. Peter had only adapted, though, because he had grown used to the idea of going to a friendly, warm home after these cold Death Eater meetings that were always either full of animosity or of admiration for Lord Voldemort.

                He thought things had almost fallen back into a normal rhythm when he arrived at Remus and Sirius' flat for the night and realized they'd already gone to bed. Peter thought nothing of it at first and slept fine. But then he saw the big, Black crest ring on Remus' finger the following morning, and Peter understood that he was no longer just bothering two mates to share their flat.

                "Oh, I'm sorry…" Peter couldn't help the blush that dusted his cheeks as Remus made breakfast. "I knew you two lived together, not that you—er—lived together."

                Remus thought nothing of it as he beamed. "Sorry, Peter. It was Sirius—he got a little carried away the other day… But didn't you know about us? Sirius announced it loud and clear months ago, at James and Lily's wedding. Though it appeared everyone knew, to an extent…"

                "Can't say I did," the rat replied honestly. He chuckled softly. "I don't think I could hear anything over the sound of my own chewing." And he tuned more out—Remus' monologue and Sirius' arrival—as he shoveled more food into his mouth.

~Spring~

                 Peter coughed up blood as Rodolphus' spell tossed him across the room. His body had never hurt so much before…

                "You insignificant little—!" Mulciber snarled in the background.

                Rodolphus held a hand up to quiet Mulciber. "I'm not done giving Pettigrew his punishment," he stated.

                When Rodolphus lifted his wand, Peter was lifted off the ground—and tossed to the other end of the room in the Lestrange house. Peter gasped and tried to catch his breath, though it was hard to breathe and not swallow the blood that was pooling in the back of his throat. Good Godric, maybe Rodolphus would just kill him already if he asked kindly.

                After several quiet moments, Mulciber drew his breath in again. "Just give me a little satisfaction, Rodolphus, just a little!" His eyes were maniacal. "It's because of him that Evan—Evan—" His dark eyes darkened more than seemed possible. They looked darker than black.

                "I know it's Pettigrew's fault that Moody and the others were tipped off about you. And now Rosier is dead, with Wilkes and Avery in bad condition and you out of your sane mind."

                Mulciber snarled incoherently. He did not seem to like Rodolphus' recapitulation very much.

                In the months that had passed, Peter's biggest screw-up—in the Death Eaters' eyes—had to be the New Year's Eve struggle between Moody and a few of the other Order members and Mulciber, Wilkes, Avery, and Evan Rosier. Sure, it might've been Peter's fault that their info had been "leaked" to the other side (something of which Peter's Marauder pals were quite proud), but Peter hadn't controlled Rosier and told the bloke to resist arrest. Rosier had fought back himself, only to be killed by Mad-Eye. For Mad-Eye, it had been an accident, because he tried not to kill any Dark wizards just rein them in. Apparently no one had told Rosier that.

                But that was only the start of spring. As spring dragged on, more and more Death Eaters fell at the hands of Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix. Peter knew some—Wilkes, for instance—and barely knew of others, but he knew that the Dark Lord's followers were taking serious hits, and it was not looking pretty when he now went to Malfoy Manor or to the Lestrange house or to one of several Black residences.

                At the flat with Remus and Sirius…well, Peter was feeling like a third wheel now more than ever. Late one morning (and he would never let them know he'd been listening), he had overheard them talking about the end of the war.

                "I was thinking…," Remus had said. "Do you think this war will go on forever?"

                Peter swallowed the lump in his throat. He sure hoped not. He wasn't sure if his body or psyche could tolerate any more physical torture or mental anguish.

                Peter missed some of what they said, but Sirius ended up saying something of interest. "Then, instead of thinking about the ugly future, think about the past. If you could do one thing all over again, what would it be?"

                "Oh, don't put me on the spot, I can't think… What would you do?" the werewolf had asked.

                "I think it's obvious—I'd definitely take that compartment with you and James again," Sirius had answered, referring to the Hogwarts Express. "I might even let you let Wormtail join us again, too, after the Sorting," he added.

                Peter, quite frankly, couldn't believe his ears. A small part of him wondered if Sirius was only saying that because of the recent advantage the Order had gained over Lord Voldemort because of Peter's information. Then again…Sirius had not killed him last fall. Sirius, who had the worst temper of the four of them, who probably had the right to kill him for being a traitor…Sirius, who had insisted that James not kill him. He was the one saying he wanted to meet all of them again and to be their friends again, given the chance to do things over.

                Peter… Well, Peter wished he could do everything over. But if he had to change one thing, he was sure he did not want to betray his friends again, no matter how hard it could get, putting up with Sirius' taunts and mean things others said at school. And, now that he was looking at it in such a light…really, how did a bad school experience translate to wanting anyone dead?

                He had no answer for that.

~Summer~

                 When summer rolled in, so did relief. Little else had happened. About the most adventurous thing had been Sirius' choice of birthday present for one-year-old Harry. Lily had sent a picture and letter expressing her gratitude, but Peter had laughed at the questionable look on Remus' face. Sirius thought it had been funny and fun—what harm was there in that?

                "Hey, do you think the war's…coming to a close?" Peter asked Remus. They were sitting in the living room without Sirius, who'd been called upon by Dumbledore for a word.

                Remus looked up from his copy of The Daily Prophet, his face blank from surprise. "I'm…not sure. It still feels a little early to tell," he stated.

                Peter nodded, agreeing.

                "Why do you ask?"

                "I was just… I was wondering what I'd do after this."

                Remus put the newspaper down and gave his mate his full attention. "I'm not sure you'll have a lot of options, Peter."

                "You don't think I'd actually get Azkaban time, after all I've done to help the Order?" he asked, panicked.

                The brunet shrugged, but he looked a bit sympathetic. "I'm not even sure of that, Peter. Yes, you've helped us, but…Merlin, it kills me to say—but you probably will have to stand trial." He bit his lip, his scars looking more prominent than usual on his fair face.

                Peter hung his head, feeling defeated. "So I probably won't live a life like yours and Sirius', or James and Lily's."

                "…it's unlikely."

                They stayed quiet for a very long time. Peter didn't notice that a couple of hours ended up passing with the two of them like that, but he eventually broke the silence. "Mind if I go to my place for a bit?"

                Remus' expression betrayed his tone. "Ah, of course not."

                "I'm only going there to grab a few things, Moony. I'll be right back."

                The werewolf's face flushed, but he acquiesced, and Peter left. But it was more out of the need to clear his head.

                It seemed as though, at every turn, Peter grew more and more conflicted. It was wrong to want someone dead for teasing you. But how could it be worth saving others when your own future looked abysmal? That was how Peter felt right now. His heart was telling him to save his friends, but his brain was urging him to run, to do anything to avoid the retribution of either side of the war—which led him to a whole other conundrum:

                He couldn't remember when he'd decided that he had to participate in a war that, really, had nothing to do with him. Though…nowadays? It had everything to do with him.

                And Remus could relax at home and Sirius could go on all the Order missions he wanted—but Peter felt in his gut that he'd probably only have the chance to do what he wanted perhaps a handful more times.

                …

                He was right.

~Autumn, once more~

                 Something felt…off when Peter awoke in his own hideout of a flat. The rodent part of him told him that, judging by how crisp the air smelled, autumn was definitely making its presence known. Sure, it had been chilly lately, but nothing like this.

                The Animagus groaned and ran his hand over his face and then through his hair. He'd been visiting his flat a little more often lately to escape the Death Eaters' resentment and his friends' good moods. But he hadn't meant to sleep there last night; if he didn't return soon, Sirius was probably going to come storming in, thinking the worst had happened.

                Peter got up and grabbed his cloak, tugging it on and exiting the building. Halfway down the street, Peter was stopped by a Patronus—Lucius' peacock.

                The rat understood that this meant all of the Dark Lord's servants were supposed to gather at Malfoy Manor, but Peter was a little stunned. Never had the spell been sent so urgently, and he had to worry that perhaps the ruse was discovered, that the jig was up—as was his time. He glanced at the sky, hating how overcast it was…but it wasn't. Peter just didn't figure that he'd slept until the following night.

                At the manor, Peter crammed in with the others, but Snape eyed him and said something to Lord Voldemort. At once, the Dark Lord beckoned to him.

                "Wormtail." His voice was colder than the waters of the Black Lake…

                "Yes, m-m-master…?" he squeaked.

                "I would like a word." Each syllable came out clearly, heavily. He stood up from his chair and disappeared into another room, and, when Peter followed, the mousy wizard passed by Snape…who looked thoroughly shaken. Peter could only identify Snape as such because—well, because he had never seen Severus Snape look that way before.

                Voldemort led Peter down a single flight of stairs until they approached a door and entered the quiet room it guarded.

                "After you, Wormtail."

                Peter did as he was instructed, but bile rose to the back of his throat. Just as he had never seen Snape look petrified, he had never seen Lord Voldemort act so coolly.

                But, when he saw those red eyes burning with the intensity of ten thousand suns, he knew—

                "Where are the Potters?"

                It came out as a hiss, and Peter heard his own words echoing in his brain: "I'd die before I tell him!" Well, now his words were being put to the test.

                When the smaller man did not reply, Voldemort brandished his bonelike wand with fluid grace. Suddenly, Peter was on the ground, writhing and convulsing.

                He had been wrong to think that what Rodolphus had done to him was the worst torture he'd ever experienced, for, as he curled in on himself and subsequently curved out, Peter felt a million things at once. His mind was being frozen and torn to shreds. His body was numb and on fire. He felt as though he were being crushed and ripped apart cell by cell. It was akin to ten million Splinchings and one botched transformation into his rat self. It was—it was a pain that truly could not be described accurately.

                "WHERE ARE THE POTTERS?" Voldemort's voice didn't have to be that loud to inform Peter that he was manic and desperate all at once.

                But Peter… Merlin, all he wanted was out. Out of this torture, out of this tug-of-war between two sides that didn't really want him, out of a war that didn't really have anything to do with him.

                Oh. Huh…

                Did he want out of life, too?

                Was the end his only option now?

                Was there any chance to spare this one, wretched life he had?

                He didn't know how much time passed, but it was a while before either of them relented—and it was Peter who gave in and Voldemort who did not break a sweat under the strain of using so much magic.

                "They're—"

                Voldemort paused, allowing Peter a distraction's worth of mercy.

                "They're in Godric's Hollow…" Was that his voice saying those words? Were they his words…?

                …

                Peter was at last numb at this point, disoriented. The Dark Lord left during his confusion, and Peter remained to gather himself.

                It was a miracle he could stand up. He had no strength left in him, and he marveled at how Lord Voldemort could be so—so terrifyingly powerful.

                The others…they won't stand a chance against him…, he thought as he struggled to get out of the room and out of the house. But the more that exact thought rolled around in his head, the more energy returned to him. What in Merlin's name had he just done? He couldn't really have given up the Potters, done exactly what he'd sworn he wouldn't do unless killed…

                But no. He'd done it. He had betrayed his friends, the people who still had believed in him, even in the least respect, even after he told them the truth about working for the other side.

                What had he done?

                Adrenaline flooded him, and Peter didn't quite realize what his body was doing. But a small part of him knew that Sirius would know—Voldemort would kill the Potters, and Sirius would know right away, he knew everything immediately when it came to his best mate, when it came to James… But Sirius was the only other person who knew that Peter had been their Secret-Keeper.

                Sirius would come after him.

                The Animagus fled Malfoy Manor and scrambled to his hideout to grab what he could carry. Oh, who was he kidding? There was nothing here for him. He already had all he needed—the cloak on his back and the wand in his pocket and—

                He turned his head. He'd heard something. When Peter turned to get a look behind him…he should've figured. He was more surprised that things had not happened sooner…

                Sirius stood in the doorway. "Hullo, Wormtail," he rasped.

                The air vanished from Peter's lungs as he met Sirius' eyes. "S-S-S-Sirius!" Peter hopped up. "I—I—I—"

                "I don't even want to hear your words!" Sirius yelled. Abruptly, he began shooting off spells, and his incantations were so rapid-fire that all Peter could do was shift into rat form and dash out the door.

                Behind him, he could hear the weight of heavier paws slapping the ground. Sirius had shifted into his dog form and was in hot pursuit. Peter could hear his snarls and the occasional bark. They scampered from street to street until it was painful to breathe, and a cloak of fog allowed them to revert to wizard form on the Muggle street, eyes locked on one another, oblivious—to an extent—to their Muggle audience.

                "HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO THEM!!!" the Black son bellowed. Even though Peter saw him shoot more spells, the wizard didn't seem like Sirius to Peter. "Avada Kedavra! AVADA KEDAVRA! AVADA KEDAVRA!!!"

                But the adrenaline still pushed Peter, urged him on, and he dodged Sirius' attacks. Sirius clearly was out of his mind in his grief, and Peter knew that, when the adrenaline was gone, he'd be a goner. He had to think of something, and fast. And, for the second time that fateful night, words poured from his mouth that he couldn't believe he was saying: "SIRIUS BLACK BETRAYED JAMES AND LILY POTTER!!!"

                There. That was it. It was done. Peter had made his bed, and now he'd have to sleep in it. In the split-second that caught Sirius off-guard by Peter's unexpected announcement, Peter used a Severing Charm to cut off a finger on his right hand. He swallowed his scream, amazed that he could still feel any pain after what Voldemort had done to him, and took one last look at one of his fellow Marauders—

                Then he cast a Blasting Curse.

                The explosion was tremendous. It knocked Peter back and created an enormous crater in the middle of the street. He was sure some Muggles had been killed, but he couldn't care less in that moment. He shifted back into his rat form and disappeared from the scene of the crime, knowing that Remus had been wrong to try and help him that day, that Sirius had been wrong in keeping the Fidelius Charm and its jeopardized status a secret from Remus and from Dumbledore, respectively, and that James had been wrong in resisting the urge to kill him last year.

                Peter Pettigrew eventually would have his just desserts. But, for now, the dead man walking would have to live with the reminder that he could never be saved, that he had traded in everything that had ever been good to him…

                …and all for his measly life.

:'S This officially marks the end of 45 Ways, if you ask me… I do believe that, even if one event had been different—such as Peter being honest with his friends, as I wrote—Peter Pettigrew still would have done what he did because, in the simplest statement, Peter's personality is that of a coward. He will save his own skin time and again until it turns against him…which it did, in the final book. But the others are flawed, as well—Remus, being kind to always want to help another in need, and—most importantly—Sirius, who was always stubborn and doubtful would've ever felt the need to own up to his mistake of naming Peter Secret-Keeper. What if he had just tattled to Dumbledore, or even let Remus in on the secret? But that wouldn't have happened…because Sirius doesn't have that type of personality. (…and yes, a year is 52 weeks long, not 45, but 45 just makes the title so much spiffier, don't ya think? ;] ) I hope you still enjoyed seeing a slight AU of things, though, and, yes, readers of 45 Ways, some dialogue came directly from chapters 39, 42, 43, and 44. I'd like to end with an excerpt of that fateful review Searlupe left: "Something makes me think that had Peter taken that offered hand, we could have a completely AU story on our hands. But got to love Remus, always trying to be the good friend."

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew

                I've asked myself that from time to time, wondering what relationships are sturdy, like elder wood, and which ones are so easily breakable, like…like… Oh, damn, what's so fragile? Besides glass. Oh! I know! Those earrings Victoire got for her tenth birthday. They were made from really soft silver wire and were in the shape of unicorns, and I wanted them, and, well…they broke in a small tiff we had. But that doesn't matter. I've looked through family history and the past of those around us and I've come to see a pattern:

                Love is a broomstick ride, uphill one minute and downhill the next.

                Once upon a time, there was a voluptuous, enchanting barmaid by the name of Madam Rosmerta. She still owns the Three Broomsticks to this day. But, back in the day, no one knew about the times when she went outside into the light of the real world.

                Back then, a distant relative of mine, Sirius Black, had bad blood with his younger brother, Regulus Arcturus Black. Quite a fancy, awe-inducing name, no? But he was anything but. Regulus was a tool of his parents' devices, and he really didn't have a hold of his own life. He was little more than a doll, and the only support he had was from his family's house-elf, Kreacher, and from his so-called "friends" who were pretty much all Death Eaters or Death Eaters-in-the-making.

                He was shadow and couldn't ever be touched by the light. Or so he thought.

                Towards the end of his Hogwarts life, Regulus grew increasingly desperate. He began clawing for the remains of a human life as his Dark wizard future encroached upon him. He was the youngest recruit the Dark Lord had ever taken on at that point, and he was sure to be the best lackey Voldemort had ever had. Regulus probably didn't know the words "fun" or "warmth" at the time.

                Light, enter stage left.

                According to the ever-lovely Rosmerta, she reached out to him because he was compelling. She'd never made a connection with a student before, but she was drawn to his character and inner strength, something which apparently he often joked was his "best bout of acting." It had been platonic at first, but—as all good love stories do—it changed, evolved into something beyond silly "I love yous" and "Me, toos" and the rest of that mawkish crap. Regulus found love with her; Rosmerta found love with him. It wasn't just an evolution. It was a revolution.

                Then he decided he'd hinder the Dark Lord, make up for his past actions.

                Rosmerta asserts that she understands his line of thinking, but she wishes he hadn't gone alone. If he hadn't… Maybe he would've survived.

                Maybe Rosmerta wouldn't still be a barmaid.

                But he did, and he at least kind of got somewhere… I mean, it was decades later when Uncle Ron destroyed the real Horcrux locket, but still. Regulus made a difference. He just made a difference twice in Ros' life—he'd gotten her to love…and he'd gotten her to feel despair.

                You see, Regulus made it out of that notorious cave. He made it back to Hogsmeade. He made it to High Street. He…he made it to Rosmerta's arms. With his last breath, he told her he loved her.

                Regulus died in Rosmerta's arms. Rosmerta has never loved another man since.

                That is real love.

                Too depressing? Okay, then I'll show you a case of fleeting attraction.

                Before Regulus had registered as a big blip on Rosmerta's radar, Sirius had been experiencing funny feelings of his own. Feelings for his best mate. Feelings for—you guessed it—Remus John Lupin. And, yes, I mean the late wizard who was also Teddy's father.

                Remus and Sirius… Sirius calls it a phase. It took a lot of heckling and cajoling to get the truth out of him, but he eventually told me. It goes like this:

                When Sirius boarded that mahogany train when he was eleven, the first friend he made was James Potter (the original one, not to be confused with my equally mischievous cousin, James Sirius Potter). He and James just clicked. So when waif-like Remus Lupin entered their compartment…needless to say, Sirius was unimpressed.

                But then they were all sorted into Gryffindor. That changes everything. Your Housemates are for life, mind you, and they become closer than even your siblings.

                Ha. Those two became a whole lot closer than siblings.

                So, yeah, the chemistry was there from the beginning and it remained, even after making friends with portly (and later, deceitful) Peter Pettigrew and forming the Marauders. Even after James, Sirius, and Peter discovered Remus was a werewolf. Even after innumerable relationships and bad break-ups on Sirius' part with damn near every witch in the school. Even after innumerable detentions from innumerable pranks played on innumerable students.

                There was one "prank," however, that could never be tolerated.

                It's no secret that Sirius Black hates Severus Snape. He always will. Snape may be dead, but Sirius will always hate him, even though Harry told Sirius about the truth behind Snape's actually heroic actions. Sirius is lucky to be alive; a tumble through the Veil and a rescue after the war when Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione broke the Veil, and he's as good as new. And his mind is the same as it always was—he and Snape will never mesh.

                He took it too far, though, when one year he was severely irritated by Snape. I tried asking Sirius why, but he doesn't even remember. All he knows is that he felt blind hatred for the greasy-haired teen.

                Sirius hated Snape. Sirius knew Remus was a werewolf. Snape didn't know, but he had his suspicions.

                Have you added two and two yet?

                On this particular evening, Sirius taunted Snape and provoked him, prodding for information about Remus' nightly whereabouts. Sirius said he would show Snape the answer to all his questions, and, for some reason that we'll never know, Snape trusted Sirius enough to leave the castle on the night of the full moon.

                Remus had transformed already and was rampaging as usual. Unlike usual, he was more aggravated that night. James and Peter could do little to contain him, and Sirius didn't seem to care much. He honestly thought that once Snape crossed paths with werewolf Remus, it would be a riot.

                He almost cost Snape his life.

                In the end it was James who saved Snape, something which Snape would forever begrudge him, as Snape had always loved Lily Evans, who later married James and had Harry, but you know that story. When Remus healed and returned to his sane mind, he tore into Sirius. James had done so already, but it meant something completely different coming from Remus.

                Remus had always had a strong effect on Sirius. Part of it was because he was quiet or silent. Many times all he had to do was send Sirius a look—hurt or disappointed—and Sirius would strive to make things right. It was a non-magical kind of magic that only Remus could work on him, and it never bothered Sirius. It was how he later figured they loved each other.

                But attempted murder does a lot to ruin a relationship.

                After the "prank," Remus and Sirius remained mates. They always would. Friendship could never be broken between them. But any chance of a real, loving relationship between them disappeared with that night's daunting, shining Moon. I'm sure that Sirius still feels a tiny pang in his chest when he sees the full moon these days.

                All right, so that was almost as depressing as the last. But my next example is anything but. I like to call their love…"valiant."

                Enter William "Bill" Weasley and Fleur Delacour. No one could have ever predicted them. I doubt even that old loon Trelawney could have foreseen them. But happen they did.

                The first time Fleur entered the picture, she was competing against Uncle Harry in the Triwizard Tournament. She was quite good with her magic, and she was and always has been most captivating. She was a wow-er in the event, and she completed her tasks gracefully…even if she didn't complete all of them.

                A funny thing often crosses my mind when it comes to their history: Why did she fall for Bill and not for Charlie? I mean, Uncle Charlie has a lot going for him, and technically they met first. He was with the dragons for the tournament's first task. But I suppose poor Uncle Charlie just wasn't up to her standards.

                So the tournament ended, and Fleur finished school, and…what would she do next? I don't think she ever really thought about it. One thing she knew was that she wanted to get a job here and improve her English. Good thing, too. Her accent is so bloody thick it's a miracle anyone can understand her. Bill manages to, but I think he used a spell or something to learn French so he can get what she says.

                One thing led to another, and Fleur came to work at Gringotts. She interacted with Bill, and apparently he helped with her language skills, but we all know they were really dating. Both of them say it was an instant attraction…but that attraction didn't extend to all of the other Weasleys.

                Seeing how Fleur meshes so easily with the family now, it's hard to consider how Grandmam Weasley and Aunt Ginny could've hated her so. Nowadays, anyone who looks at Fleur would think that she had always been a Weasley matriarch, somewhere deep down inside her…in her blood. Of course, as always, a war changes people.

                Funny how Grandmam Weasley ever thought she had a foot to stand on when she proclaimed that Bill and Fleur were rushing in to things when they got engaged and were pretty much ready to tie the knot towards the beginning of the second war. Grandmam Weasley had rushed in to marriage, too, with Grampa Weasley, way back in the days of the first war. Hmm, would that be the pot calling the cauldron black, perhaps? Yeah, I thought so, too.

                But what it all comes down to is that adjective I used earlier—"valiant." Most thought that Fleur was with Bill for his good looks. Hey, it was an observation. They're beautiful people, and beautiful people look great together. However, no one really saw them when they were together and deeply immersed in conversation or in each other. No one had really witnessed the electricity between them.

                Oh, boy, though—sparks of another sort flew when Bill was marred by Greyback.

                Most of the family thought Fleur would flutter away in the wind now that Bill was no longer good-looking. Which is bullshit. For two reasons. First, as Fleur so vehemently and pointedly stated, Fleur loved him for every other part of him besides his looks and—well, the woman did say she would be pretty enough for them both. My second point is that calling him ugly after the attack is ridiculous. Honestly. Go look at him. Those scars add character. I haven't once heard a witch say "ew" to him. All I see are scores of witches whose faces burn red and hearts pound in their chest, and you know what they say? "Is that the war hero, Bill Weasley?" Trust me, those scars are far from maiming.

                Good thing, too. Because it was only a few months after that that Fleur and Bill married, and, one war and a few years later, Victoire was born, and everything just kept rolling in motion.

                Oh, and if you didn't catch it by now, I haven't called them aunt and uncle. It's because I'm proud to call them Mum and Dad. Their love means the most to me, and, to this day, it's still as fresh as when they first met in that goblin bank.

                So would you like to hear of a love story almost as juicy? One not riddled with clichés, as most people might think? All right, then, let me take you a few years back in my lifetime.

                By this time, James Sirius Potter and his brother, Albus Severus, had finished Hogwarts. Lily had about one year to go, I think…yeah, I'm a bit crap with timelines, but so what? The point to demonstrate is that Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry had weathered and survived a lot, and it was getting to that point where… Well, things weren't as fun anymore.

                That was how it looked to the family. James told me different, though. "Oh, you know Dad," he'd said. "He was always so caught up in his work. As if he really had any time for his family." James had never—and probably never would—forgiven his father for all the times that he should've been home. Uncle Harry had been home to see only Al get his Hogwarts letter, you should know. That was how "caught up" he was with the Auror Office.

                Here's where I'd like to remind you that Sirius is alive. I wasn't lying earlier when I said that Aunt Hermione and Uncle Harry had broken the Veil following the war. It had been a last-ditch attempt to rescue Sirius, and luckily that worked. Sirius popped out looking not a day past the age he'd been when he'd been pushed through the Veil by Bellatrix Lestrange's Stunning Spell. However, two years in the Veil had helped him to grow up, maturity-wise. Poor bloke…

                Anyway, let me finish painting the picture for you: Uncle Harry's a dick, Aunt Ginny's fed up with a life that's grown up and is practically out of her hands, and Sirius is alive. Are you raising questions yet?

                It's not as though Aunt Ginny had no feelings whatsoever for Sirius Black. Recall that back right before Sirius got lost to the Veil, when Uncle Harry had taken his friends to the Ministry to "save" Sirius, Aunt Ginny had told Harry that she cared for Sirius just as much as he did. Fact. No, really. They had made friends while stuck at the Burrow and Grimmauld Place while everyone else did stuff for the Order of the Phoenix. Ginny couldn't do anything then because she was so young. Sirius couldn't do anything then because he was an outlaw.

                Perfect match, no?

                But they didn't really get to know each other then. Contrary to popular belief, they weren't best mates since they were left behind. Friends, sure, but bosom buddies? Nope. It wasn't until after the Veil rescue when Ginny and the others could learn more about what made Sirius Black tick.

                When Uncle Harry was younger, he lived with his awful Muggle relatives. After the war, he moved into Twelve Grimmauld Place. Once Sirius was rescued, both of them lived there—it was a promise fulfilled about five years after it'd been made.

                After Aunt Ginny grew up and finished school and started playing Quidditch professionally, Uncle Harry had found time to get his feet on the ground. One thing led to another, yadda yadda, Ginny spent more and more at Grimmauld Place, blah blah, and then Ginny and Harry did what everyone expected and married and had kids and it all seemed like the perfect fairytale.

                As James and Al and Lily grew up, Sirius played a helpful, babysitter role, and it supposedly helped Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry find time to themselves. Not entirely true… I asked all three kids what role they saw Sirius as having played in their lives, and all of them answered the same way: "Our dad."

                And no one's ever told Uncle Harry that little Lily Luna actually called Sirius "Daddy" first.

                So back to the story. With almost all the kids out of school, Aunt Ginny faced more and more time to herself…and with Sirius. Truly, he'd been there for her all those years. They'd become real friends during this time, and, now both well into their adult lives, a mutual attraction that was more than platonic formed.

                Nothing happened until Lily was out of school. Aunt Ginny felt confused and a little guilty about her feelings, and Sirius thought the kids could better handle things once they were, basically, adults. Sadly for him, he could've started really chasing Ginny earlier as James, Al, and Lils had long ago accepted him as their real father figure. But when Lily did finish Hogwarts, Sirius did his damnedest to make life fun and exciting for Ginny. Honestly, if Uncle Harry noticed, he didn't care. It was almost as though having a wife and family had been a phase for him, just as Remus had been a phase for Sirius (who, for the record, never liked any boy besides Remus, so finding love with a witch was normal for him, as he'd fallen for Remus' personality and not his gender).

                It was last year when, after three years of quiet love, Ginny and Sirius told the family of their relationship. To which most of us laughed. Hey, most of us had guessed it already. Aunt Ginny's kids were the happiest I'd ever seen them, actually…

                Uncle Harry was nowhere to be found. Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron said he was holed up at his office. Go figure.

                See how juicy it was? Told you so. The Boy-Who-Lived had outlived his stay. He was better as the best Auror of our lives than as a husband and father.

                I'm sure one of these days we'll be legally calling Sirius "Uncle Sirius"—and I don't think even Grandmam and Grampa Weasley will object.

                Now let me tell you about the "Ginrius" of my generation. There once was a little girl named Lily Luna Potter. She had two older brothers and a huge family made up of people who dearly loved her. Lily really had the world in her palm.

                But one star was missing from her perfect sky.

                Theodore Remus Lupin had grown up to be a strong boy. He was now a strong Auror, though not as absorbed in his work as his godfather, our Uncle Harry. Teddy hadn't let it affect him, the fact that his parents, Remus and Tonks, had died before he'd known them. Uncle Harry and his Grandma Andromeda had raised Teddy well. Teddy had always been a charmer.

                He'd charmed the heart right out of Lily. Even at a young age, Lily had always known that Teddy was number one in her heart. When Lily wanted to be picked up, she called out for "Taddie." When she needed a playmate, she asked where Teddy was. When something made her sad, she cried on Teddy's shoulder. It was a sibling relationship, and yet it wasn't. There was something that…bonded these two together.

                For a moment, it appeared as though the bond had been broken when Teddy dated my sister, Victoire. But they didn't last long. Teddy was a prince and Victoire was a fleeting fay. Passion united them, but it also broke them. They clashed much too often to work. They could never work things out. But one thing that Teddy worked out was that he needed a princess.

                Lily had always been his princess, though.

                When Lily was fifteen, she made her move on Teddy. She figured he needed to know of her real feelings by then, so she put herself out there, regardless of whether he returned her feelings. It was torture for her, while he recovered from the shock and mulled over the situation. But finally, in her last year of school, Teddy admitted he felt the same way, and they've been going strong ever since.

                Oh, James and Al put Teddy through the ringer. They had to; Lily was their baby sister. But they approved of him. He was the only one of Lily's boyfriends they've ever approved of, and I hope for Teddy's sake that that doesn't change. Because when Lily tells Teddy and the others the surprise she and the last Lupin are expecting now, four years later, and Teddy has been too timid to put a ring on her finger…

                Oh, yeah. The fireworks are going to be hilarious. I don't think even Sirius will be joking when he learns about his surrogate daughter's, ehm, "plumpness."

                Funny. Aunt Ginny fell for a godfather. Lily fell for a godson… Won't it be funny, if Lily has a daughter? That girl's future is bound to be interesting.

                So I think I'll sum up Lily and Teddy with one notion to stir your imagination—they were always soulmates. And I've never thought of anyone else in such a way, either.

                There's a dark side to soulmates, though, something that skews such a definition. For those who enjoy a good tale of seizing what you want, you'll appreciate the story of one Daphne Greengrass and Lucius Malfoy.

                How is this possible, you may ask? Wasn't Lucius Malfoy married to Narcissa Malfoy? Didn't they lead a perfect life, everything considered following the war?

                Oh, how much you have to learn, my dearies.

                As mentioned before, bad deeds really strain a relationship. Once they were cleared of charges following the second war, things became very tense in the Malfoy household. I recall Scorpius telling me once that his grandparents were like ice sculptures: beautiful to look at but cold to the touch. Even during Scor's parents, Draco and Astoria's, courtship, Lucius and Narcissa had played polite but never nice. But it was actually at Astoria and Draco's wedding where Lucius met the pretty Daphne.

                Scorpius says his aunt was reluctant and cautious of his grandfather at first. It was like a game not of cat and mouse but of spider and fly. Lucius lured her in, intrigued by her smart mind and her dismissal of her presumed pureblood cares. Daphne also stood up to him. This wasn't to say that Narcissa didn't, but Daphne's character was so much more compelling and playful and…intimidating.

                Lucius had his very first challenge.

                With Lucius, he only had to throw around his family name to get whatever he wanted. It had always worked for him, and he'd come to depend on it continuing to work. But when Daphne Greengrass was not impressed by him, he had to learn how to catch a woman for real.

                He had to become the gentleman had he always given the impression of being.

                This was new territory, certainly. Not only did Lucius have to use half a brain, but he also had to develop the real, human emotions that had lain dormant, unused deep inside him. Did you know? Daphne was the one to get him—Lucius Malfoy!—to say those three little words: "I love you."

                Who knew that a little wallflower witch could've brought a "great" wizard to his knees?

                It's interesting, though… Lucius had never played with Daphne's heart. If anything, Scorpius said that Daphne had nearly toyed with Lucius', for she had dragged her feet so long before trusting him in the least bit.

                Well, the fruit falls far from the tree, as Scorpius has no room to talk.

                Scorpius isn't as innocent as he first comes off. When you take a look at his love life, you see that he's a bit of a mastermind. He can manage two hearts at once.

                First it was Lorcan Scamander. Scor had had his eye on the twin for a long time. He liked Lorcan's mind and the haughtiness that surprisingly came along with it. He'd always appreciated blond locks similar to his, but Scorpius really liked the chase Lorc gave when Scorpius initially started after the Ravenclaw.

                Tsk. Typical Slytherin.

                What makes Scorpius even more of a typical Slytherin is that he went after not only Lorcan, but he even chased my cousin, Freddie! And poor Freddie fell head-over-heels for him. Merlin, it was pretty bad… Scorpius had once shown a little interest in him, and then Freddie had forever pined after the Malfoy. An even greater strain on things? Freddie and Lorcan are best mates…and they're both in love with the same wizard.

                I'm not really sure what's running through Scor's mind or heart. I'd love to know. He has them both wrapped around his little finger, as much as Lorc would hate to admit it. I once tried asking Scor why he goes between the two, and he gave me a grim smile as he answered, "They have in them what I'm missing in me." So damn cryptic. I tried asking Lorc and Freddie why they wouldn't leave him; they know about the other's relationship with Scorpius, for Godric's sake. But both of them said—mysteriously—the same thing: "I can't just stop loving him because someone else does."

                Oh, Fate…how you fuck with us so.

                Well, let's move on to something a little less scandal-ridden. Like my cousin, Molly, and her office romance.

                Molly is so uptight and concerned with the "right thing" and the rules. She was a bookworm, a bitch, and now she's a bloody good Obliviator. She had two failed attempts at romance—Theodore Nott and Zacharias Smith (of which the latter is currently engaged to one Parvati Patil)—before finding comfort and peace with Michael Corner, an old schoolmate of Uncle Harry, Aunt Hermione, and Uncle Ron's.

                Molly had made friends with Nott and Corner at the Ministry. Nott worked as an Unspeakable, and Corner worked in the Office of Misinformation, which often dealt with creature cover-ups. The three had been inseparable to a certain degree. But things took a turn for the worse when she fancied Smith.

                She went after him for a while, but Smith told her he couldn't be with her. His heart belonged to Parvati. This sent Molly running back into Nott's and Corner's arms, but more so Nott's. He tried being for her what Smith couldn't…but the old hurt was too much. The hurt that had appeared when she'd originally told Nott and Corner to stop being jealous of each other because she'd never choose between them. Well, she had. But, in Nott's book, it was too late for her to rectify things.

                Aunt Hermione told me that Michael Corner had been a very stubborn, very proud boy when they were kids. Molly even confessed to me once that his stubbornness could be irritating.

                What anyone had failed to realize, though, was that Michael was possible of great empathy and care. He had never let his feelings for Molly wane, and he was the only one who had remained by her side through the Smith and Nott fiascos. He knew how she felt, to love and not be loved…

                After they had been together for a while, Molly said to me that she wished she could have been as smart about people as she was about books. Then she would've realized sooner just how rightly her hand fit in his.

                Molly doesn't know it yet, but Michael just bought a lovely solitaire-cut opal before the big date they have tomorrow. Opals are Molly's favorite gem. I'm sure she's smart enough to know this real man from one of fiction.

                Sweet… Very sweet. It's not to say that others aren't. But all this talk about my relatives getting together with our parents' and aunts' and uncles' former classmates brings to mind one relationship that screamed "scandal" for close to a decade.

                By now you must've heard of Victoire Apolline Weasley. Who hasn't? Vic leaves her mark wherever she goes. Merlin knows she left her mark on Hogwarts.

                Ha, that has a double-meaning, and I bet you didn't even notice.

                But yes, she left her mark on Hogwarts. For a little bit (as mentioned earlier), Victoire dated Teddy, but that didn't last long. Part of the reason was because she just didn't work with him. The other part was that she had her eyes on one somewhat-available Herbology professor…

                Neville Longbottom.

                Okay, I know, I know, who the hell ever thought they'd be together? But let me tell you—Neville is no gangly, awkward teen. He's not a wizard who's as unsure of himself as he is sure the sky's blue. He is a beaten-down man who found companionship with a girl who happened to find love with him.

                After the war, Neville did a stint as an Auror before teaching Herbology at Hogwarts. He married Hannah Abbott, the landlady of the Leaky Cauldron, and they had a son named Frank. All seemed well for the Longbottoms.

                Except for the lack of love in the house.

                Frankie was always loved. His parents cared about no one more. They just didn't care very much about each other. Neville tried to make it work, he really did, but Hannah didn't like the deflated feeling she got whenever she was around him. So she left Neville for an old Housemate, and Neville got Frankie and a divorce.

                It stung a lot. Neville's classes were tense during that period right after his divorce. But he made the best of it.

                Victoire broke up with Teddy in her sixth year. It had been a long time coming, and, honestly, both were happy to return to a platonic friendship. Around this time, though, it was a year after Neville's divorce, and Victoire struck up an odd but nice kind of friendship with the Herbology professor.

                Somewhere along the line, my sister got it into her mind that Neville was appealing in a more than merely interested way. Vic says that those were the first days when Neville made her heart pound, but she just blushes now if you tell her that he obviously still does that now. It was also quite obvious that this was a kind of love at first sight.

                Victoire's always been a bit pushy. It's just how she is. It's part of the nature she inherited from our mother, who was very similar when she was that age. Victoire could get herself in and out of trouble with her charms and attitude…except with Neville.

                They actually conveyed their feelings to each other during a spot of detention, which is hysterically hilarious. Who ever heard of a love confession during a detention?! But that's just how Victoire and Neville work. They're what you'd call an "unconventional couple." Things just work at their own, odd pace. For example, once Vic was older and they started actually dating, it took Neville something like fifteen dates before he finally kissed her! Of course, take that with you to the grave; Vic would kill me if she knew I'd shared that with anyone else, ha.

                But yeah, they work in their own special way. It was bad when they went public to the family alone. They were met with a mix of approval and disgust. I still don't think Mum and Dad have ever settled with the fact that the only person in the world who could ever get Victoire to settle down is Neville…but it's true. It's Neville. Victoire might be a multitude of negative emotions and unappealing characteristics on her own, but Neville balances all that out. He's…her human Ritalin.

                Yes, Vic, I say that with all love intended. No, really!

                Obviously if the family felt strange about them, so did our friends and colleagues. They waited a few years after Victoire finished school, so as not to raise suspicion. I mean, Victoire did not want to have to repeat any classes in which she'd certainly gotten the marks she deserved (she's a Ravenclaw for a reason). Luckily they passed under McGonagall's radar, and they had clear sailing out of others' storm of criticisms. Some people (a few of Vic's now ex-friends) rebuked Victoire for her actions. Others (our mates, the Scamander twins, for example) were just in amazement that a) she'd gotten away with such a relationship (ahem, friendship) during her schooldays and b) that she and Neville made it work.

                Victoire and Neville… They take things slow, but they're rock-solid. It's an enviable quality, and I'm happy for my sister. It's good that their "scandal" calmed down.

                One scandal wasn't as lucky.

                James is a very capable person. You have to be to look after two younger siblings and your mother when your father isn't in the picture all that much (though, yes, Sirius has always been a great help). James was good in school, though a tad lazy, and he values his friends…

                And he thought he could value the family enough to understand him when he found love.

                Understand that James never had much trouble finding girlfriends before. In fact, he'd been a bit of a heartbreaker when he was younger, reminiscent of Sirius himself. But as James went on through school, he had fewer and fewer dates. Al never thought much of it. "Are you kidding?" he told me. "James needed to focus on his marks! He's smart, but—damn—he's a slacker when he's got no motivation. In fact, if it weren't for that bit of cajoling, he wouldn't have passed Muggle Studies in sixth year."

                The "bit of cajoling" to which Al was referring came from the Muggle Studies professor, Justin Finch–Fletchley. He said James had talent for understanding Muggles and their creations and even convinced James to take his N.E.W.T. class—which, I might add, James passed the following year. But during James' sixth? James was bored…and a little angry with his father… Professor Finch–Fletchley bogged him down with extra lessons to bring his Muggle Studies marks up, but Professor Finch–Fletchely also realized James needed something else: a mate. Sure, James has his mates Troy and Curt and Lania, but Justin brought new aspects to the word "friend," and he also brought new thoughts to James' mind.

                One little drama and fight later, James realized he felt more than friendly towards his teacher. The feeling was mutual.

                "It was hell getting Jus to say anything about his true feelings to me," James answered me when I asked one day. "As pleasant as I can be"—we both snickered at that—"and as sweet as he can be, we were both so bloody pigheaded about…saying we liked each other. Student and teacher, wizard and wizard… It was a platter of trouble served freshly hot. But I know I couldn't help it. I'm glad he didn't want to help it, either. Otherwise we never would've gotten to where we are today."

                Yeah, tell me about it. That had only been his sixth year. For his seventh, he and Justin had a horrible time because of a few misunderstandings that weren't worked out until it was almost too late. But they worked through their troubles—similar to how Victoire and Neville work, really—and many, many months later they told the family. It was damn near catastrophic. I… Hell, the reactions just by his parents and siblings were bad enough. I was in shock; I don't think any of us expected James, of all people, to turn out to be gay. Though, he says it isn't so much being gay as it is about loving someone who happens to be a wizard, a male, like him.

                The loves that happen… The reactions to them… They can both be wondering or terrifying. Even if things are fine for the couple, it can never be perfect. There will always be a bit of anxiety, of fear, for anyone and everyone has the option of changing his or her mind whenever he or she feels like it. Vic and Neville… James and Justin… They're the best examples of it, if you ask me.

                And now you must be asking, "So which sibling are you? Are you Louis? Or…" Heavens, no. No, I'm not Louis, bless our little brother's soul. I am Dominique Gabrielle Weasley, and I understand all of these people's loving souls best. I understand their worst fears best. I understand their pain.

                I've told no one, not one single soul—not even my sister—that I am in love with a former teacher and current wedding boutique-owner and witch…

                Pansy Parkinson.

                Godric, don't bother patronizing me or tearing me to pieces. Harbor your own judgments in your soul, whether you argue that Pansy cannot be matched with anyone or that two women ought not to be in love or engaged in any kind of non-platonic physical activities. Who are you to judge when you know so little? So I'll share that little with you, and maybe you'll start to understand what I've been trying to get across all this time, about love being that bloody broomstick ride.

                Victoire and Neville were planning their wedding. Victoire refused any type of wedding planner, so she was running around doing practically everything by herself. When it came to her outfit, she trusted "Garland Boutique," the place where she could have her dress, veil, shoes, reception dress, and jewelry made all in one stop. Little by little, I collected my sister's items, trying them on before she could (but don't tell her that!). When it came to the dress…I didn't try it on. But it got me itching to try a wedding dress on, myself.

                Pansy picked one for me and helped me into it. We both stared at my reflection, thinking… I could see in her eyes the ideas that had been stirring in my mind for a while. Maybe her fingers on my skin would feel better than this cloth. Maybe her hand in mine would feel better than the world's best set of diamonds. Maybe her eyes ought not to look at anything other than me ever again.

                It wasn't a love at first sight, but it was that electric shock that travels down your spine and tugs at your navel, giving you that scary feeling that you're either about to vomit or burst into a hyper fit of giggles. Any girl in love (or like) is bound to know that emotion.

                Now…it's been a few years. I'm horrified of what my family might say. I'm sure Mum and Dad have already labeled Louis their last hope, but they certainly will consider him as such if I ever tell them that their "single" daughter isn't so single. I fret often about the reactions… Sometimes I have nightmares that I'm cut off—I don't care about the financial aspect, since I can support myself working at Beauxbatons, but the emotional part of it… I never want to lose my family.

                As proud as Pansy is, I know that when I crumple in her arms, crying, or when I wake up screaming from one of those nightmares, there's fear that seizes her, too. Only every now and then can I see it in her eyes. Most of the time I feel it in how her body tenses against mine, or how her arms tighten involuntarily around me. She seems to fear that my family will strike down her door and take me away… I don't like that thought, either.

                But I'm more scared that her fear will get the better of her, and I'll lose the best thing that's ever come my way.

                So, what is love but a passing, flimsy, oft unattainable thing? Is it something like that? Or is it something more, something not skin-deep but soul-deep? It isn't just that single glance or that one shock. It's not the idea that this person completes you, but the idea that you are more whole, that you are better because you have their strength and brains and good qualities added to yours. You are two separate entities who come together as a single, great being. You fight anything that comes your way and know it makes you all the better for having fought it, even if you didn't win it.

                Love is a broomstick ride, uphill one minute and downhill the next. You may not be able to win the race, but it's how you ride it out that counts, my fellow Soldiers of Love.

Well. :O I'm…so proud of this. I'll try to keep this A/N short so you can let the story sink in. Merlin… The point of this fic was just to use my favorite pairings to celebrate my breaking 200 stories…and somehow it turned into a thought-provoking piece, even for me. I'm super happy with it, and I hope you walk away feeling empowered (urgh, that sounds cheesy…), too.

Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave an anon/unsigned review via the FFN link or comment via the AO3 link at the top of the post, especially if you enjoyed this!

~mew